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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Roar of the Sea, by Sabine Baring-Gould
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: In the Roar of the Sea
+
+Author: Sabine Baring-Gould
+
+Release Date: August 31, 2012 [EBook #40631]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+         IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA
+
+                   BY
+
+            S. BARING-GOULD
+
+               AUTHOR OF
+  "THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS," "URITH," ETC.
+
+
+                NEW YORK
+         NATIONAL BOOK COMPANY
+            6 MISSION PLACE
+
+
+            Copyright, 1891,
+                   BY
+      UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY.
+        [_All rights reserved._]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+   CHAPTER                                              PAGE
+
+        I. OVER AND DONE                                   5
+
+       II. A PASSAGE OF ARMS                              12
+
+      III. CAPTAIN CRUEL                                  20
+
+       IV. HOP-O'-MY-THUMB                                24
+
+        V. THE BUTTONS                                    31
+
+       VI. UNCLE ZACHIE                                   39
+
+      VII. A VISIT                                        45
+
+     VIII. A PATCHED PEACE                                52
+
+       IX. C. C.                                          60
+
+        X. EGO ET REGINA MEA                              67
+
+       XI. JESSAMINE                                      75
+
+      XII. THE CAVE                                       85
+
+     XIII. IN THE DUSK                                    93
+
+      XIV. WARNING OF DANGER                             100
+
+       XV. CHAINED                                       109
+
+      XVI. ON THE SHINGLE                                114
+
+     XVII. FOR LIFE OR DEATH                             122
+
+    XVIII. UNA                                           128
+
+      XIX. A GOLDFISH                                    136
+
+       XX. BOUGHT AND SOLD                               144
+
+      XXI. OTHELLO COTTAGE                               151
+
+     XXII. JAMIE'S RIDE                                  158
+
+    XXIII. ALL IS FOR THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS     166
+
+     XXIV. A NIGHT EXCURSION                             175
+
+      XXV. FOUND                                         182
+
+     XXVI. AN UNWILLING PRISONER                         189
+
+    XXVII. A RESCUE                                      195
+
+   XXVIII. AN EXAMINATION                                203
+
+     XXIX. ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER                        211
+
+      XXX. THROUGH THE TAMARISKS                         221
+
+     XXXI. AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS                          229
+
+    XXXII. A DANGEROUS GIFT                              237
+
+   XXXIII. HALF A MARRIAGE                               244
+
+    XXXIV. A BREAKFAST                                   252
+
+     XXXV. JACK O' LANTERN                               259
+
+    XXXVI. THE SEA-WOLVES                                269
+
+   XXXVII. BRUISED NOT BROKEN                            275
+
+  XXXVIII. A CHANGE OF WIND                              282
+
+    XXXIX. A FIRST LIE                                   290
+
+       XL. THE DIAMOND BUTTERFLY                         297
+
+      XLI. A DEAD-LOCK                                   306
+
+     XLII. TWO LETTERS                                   313
+
+    XLIII. THE SECOND TIME                               320
+
+     XLIV. THE WHIP FALLS                                327
+
+      XLV. GONE FROM ITS PLACE                           334
+
+     XLVI. A SECOND LIE                                  341
+
+    XLVII. FAST IN HIS HANDS                             349
+
+   XLVIII. TWO ALTERNATIVES                              357
+
+     XLIX. NOTHING LIKE GROG                             364
+
+        L. PLAYING FORFEITS                              372
+
+       LI. SURRENDER                                     380
+
+      LII. TO JUDITH                                     387
+
+     LIII. IN THE SMOKE                                  395
+
+      LIV. SQUAB PIE                                     403
+
+
+
+
+IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+OVER AND DONE.
+
+
+Sitting in the parsonage garden, in a white frock, with a pale green
+sash about her waist, leaning back against the red-brick wall, her
+glowing copper hair lit by the evening sun, was Judith Trevisa.
+
+She was tossing guelder-roses into the air; some dozens were strewn
+about her feet on the gravel, but one remained of the many she had
+plucked and thrown and caught, and thrown and caught again for a sunny
+afternoon hour. As each greenish-white ball of flowers went up into
+the air it diffused a faint but pleasant fragrance.
+
+"When I have done with you, my beauty, I have done altogether," said
+Judith.
+
+"With what?"
+
+Her father spoke. He had come up unperceived by the girl, burdened
+with a shovel in one hand and a bucket in the other, looking pale,
+weary, and worn.
+
+"Papa, you nearly spoiled my game. Let me finish, and I will speak."
+
+"Is it a very serious matter, Judith, and engrossing?"
+
+"Engrossing, but not serious, _Je m'amuse_."
+
+The old rector seated himself on the bench beside her, and he also
+leaned back against the red-brick, gold-and-gray-lichen-spotted wall,
+and looked into the distance before him, waiting till his daughter was
+ready to speak, not, perhaps, sorry to have a little rest first, for
+he was overtired. Had Judith not been absorbed in her ball-play with
+the guelder-rose bunch she would have noticed his haggard appearance,
+the green hue about his mouth, the sunken eyes, the beaded brow. But
+she was counting the rebounds of her ball, bent on sustaining her play
+as long as was possible to her.
+
+She formed a charming picture, fresh and pure, and had the old man not
+been overtired, he would have thought so with a throb of parental
+pride.
+
+She was a child in size, slender in build, delicate in bone, with face
+and hands of porcelain transparency and whiteness, with, moreover,
+that incomparable complexion only seen in the British Isles, and then
+only with red-gold hair.
+
+Her bronze-leather shoes were the hue of some large flies that basked
+and frisked on the warm wall, only slightly disturbed by the girl's
+play, to return again and run and preen themselves again, and glitter
+jewel-like as studs on that sun-baked, lichen-enamelled wall. Her
+eyes, moreover, were lustrous as the backs of these flies, iridescent
+with the changing lights of the declining sun, and the changed
+direction of her glance following the dancing ball of guelder-rose.
+Her long fingers might have been of china, but that when raised so
+that the sun struck their backs they were turned to a translucent
+rose. There was no color in her cheek, only the faintest suffusion of
+pink on the temples below where the hair was rolled back in waves of
+luminous molten copper dashing against the brick wall.
+
+"I have done my work," said the rector.
+
+"And I my play," responded the girl, letting the ball drop into her
+lap and rock there from one knee to the other. "Papa, this fellow is
+the conqueror; I have made him dance thirty-five great leaps, and he
+has not yet fallen--wilfully. I let him go down and get breath just
+now. There lie all my dancers dead about me. They failed very
+speedily."
+
+"You cannot be forever playing, Ju."
+
+"That is why I play now, papa. When playtime is over I shall be in
+earnest indeed."
+
+"Indeed?" the old man sighed.
+
+Judith looked round, and was shocked to see how ill her father
+appeared to be.
+
+"Are you very tired, darling papa?"
+
+"Yes--overtired."
+
+"Have you been at your usual task?"
+
+"Yes, Ju--an unprofitable task."
+
+"Oh, papa!"
+
+"Yes, unprofitable. The next wind from the sea that blows--one will
+blow in an hour--and all my work is undone."
+
+"But, my dear papa!" Judith stooped and looked into the bucket.
+"Why!--what has made you bring a load of sand up here? We want none in
+the garden. And such a distance too!--from the church. No wonder you
+are tired."
+
+"Have I brought it?" he asked, without looking at the bucket.
+
+"You have, indeed. That, if you please, is unprofitable work, not the
+digging of the church out of the sand-heaps that swallow it."
+
+"My dear, I did not know that I had not emptied the pail outside the
+church-yard gate. I am very tired; perhaps that explains it."
+
+"No doubt about it, papa. It was work quite as unprofitable but much
+more exhausting than my ball-play. Now, papa, while you have been
+digging your church out of the sand, which will blow over it again
+to-night, you say, I have been pitching and tossing guelder-roses. We
+have been both wasting time, one as much as the other."
+
+"One as much as the other," repeated the old man. "Yes, dear, one as
+much as the other, and I have been doing it all my time here--morally,
+spiritually, as well as materially, digging the church out of the
+smothering sands, and all in vain--all profitless work. You are right,
+Ju."
+
+"Papa," said Judith hastily, seeing his discouragement and knowing his
+tendency to depression, "papa, do you hear the sea how it roars? I
+have stood on the bench, more than once, to look out seaward, and find
+a reason for it; but there is none--all blue, blue as a larkspur; and
+not a cloud in the sky--all blue, blue there too. No wind either, and
+that is why I have done well with my ball-play. Do you hear the roar
+of the sea, papa?" she repeated.
+
+"Yes, Ju. There will be a storm shortly. The sea is thrown into great
+swells of rollers, a sure token that something is coming. Before night
+a gale will be on us."
+
+Then ensued silence. Judith with one finger trifled with the
+guelder-rose bunch in her lap musingly, not desirous to resume her
+play with it. Something in her father's manner was unusual, and made
+her uneasy.
+
+"My dear!" he began, after a pause, "one must look out to sea--into
+the vast mysterious sea of the future--and prepare for what is coming
+from it. Just now the air is still, and we sit in this sweet, sunny
+garden, and lean our backs against the warm wall, and smell the
+fragrance of the flowers; but we hear the beating of the sea, and know
+that a mighty tempest, with clouds and darkness, is coming. So in
+other matters we must look out and be ready--count the time till it
+comes. My dear, when I am gone----"
+
+"Papa!"
+
+"We were looking out to sea and listening. That must come at some
+time--it may come sooner than you anticipate." He paused, heaved a
+sigh, and said, "Oh, Jamie! What are we to do about Jamie?"
+
+"Papa, I will always take care of Jamie."
+
+"But who will take care of you?"
+
+"Of me? Oh, papa, surely I can take care of myself!"
+
+He shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"Papa, you know how strong I am in will--how firm I can be with
+Jamie."
+
+"But all mankind are not Jamies. It is not for you I fear, as much as
+for you and him together. He is a trouble and a difficulty."
+
+"Jamie is not so silly and troublesome as you think. All he needs is
+application. He cannot screw his mind down to his books--to any
+serious occupation. But that will come. I have heard say that the
+stupidest children make the sharpest men. Little by little it will
+come, but it will come certainly. I will set myself as my task to make
+Jamie apply his mind and become a useful man, and I shall succeed,
+papa." She caught her father's hand between hers, and slapped it
+joyously, confidently. "How cold your hand is, papa! and yet you look
+warm."
+
+"You were always Jamie's champion," said her father, not noticing her
+remark relative to himself.
+
+"He is my twin brother, so of course I am his champion. Who else would
+be that, were not I?"
+
+"No--no one else. He is mischievous and troublesome--poor, poor
+fellow. You will always be to Jamie what you are now, Ju--his
+protector or champion? He is weak and foolish, and if he were to fall
+into bad hands--I shudder to think what might become of him."
+
+"Rely on me, dearest father."
+
+Then he lifted the hand of his daughter, and looked at it with a faint
+smile. "It is very small, it is very weak, to fight for self alone,
+let alone yourself encumbered with Jamie."
+
+"I will do it, papa, do not fear."
+
+"Judith, I must talk very gravely with you, for the future is very
+dark to me; and I am unable with hand or brain to provide anything
+against the evil day. Numbness is on me, and I have been hampered on
+every side. For one thing, the living has been so poor, and my
+parishioners so difficult to deal with, that I have been able to lay
+by but a trifle. I believe I have not a relative in the world--none,
+at all events, near enough and known to me that I dare ask him to care
+for you----"
+
+"Papa, there is Aunt Dionysia."
+
+"Aunt Dionysia," he repeated, with a hesitating voice. "Yes; but Aunt
+Dionysia is--is not herself capable of taking charge of you. She has
+nothing but what she earns, and then--Aunt Dionysia is--is--well--Aunt
+Dionysia. I don't think you could be happy with her, even if, in the
+event of my departure, she were able to take care of you. Then--and
+that chiefly--she has chosen, against my express wishes--I may say, in
+defiance of me--to go as housekeeper into the service of the man, of
+all others, who has been a thorn in my side, a hinderer of God's work,
+a--But I will say no more."
+
+"What! Cruel Coppinger?"
+
+"Yes, Cruel Coppinger. I might have been the means of doing a little
+good in this place, God knows! I only _think_ I might; but I have been
+thwarted, defied, insulted by that man. As I have striven to dig my
+buried church out of the overwhelming sands, so have I striven to lift
+the souls of my poor parishioners out of the dead engulfing sands of
+savagery, brutality, very heathenism of their mode of life, and I have
+been frustrated. The winds have blown the sands back with every gale
+over my work with spade, and that stormblast Coppinger has devastated
+every trace of good that I have done, or tried to do, in spiritual
+matters. The Lord reward him according to his works."
+
+Judith felt her father's hand tremble in hers.
+
+"Never mind Coppinger now," she said, soothingly.
+
+"I must mind him," said the old man, with severe vehemence. "And--that
+my own sister should go, go--out of defiance, into his house and serve
+him! That was too much. I might well say, I have none to whom to look
+as your protector." He paused awhile, and wiped his brow. His pale
+lips were quivering. "I do not mean to say," said he, "that I acted
+with judgment, when first I came to S. Enodoc, when I spoke against
+smuggling. I did not understand it then. I thought with the thoughts
+of an inlander. Here--the sands sweep over the fields, and agriculture
+is in a measure impossible. The bays and creeks seem to
+invite--well--I leave it an open question. But with regard to
+wrecking--" His voice, which had quavered in feebleness, according
+with the feebleness of his judgment relative to smuggling, now gained
+sonorousness. "Wrecking, deliberate wrecking, is quite another matter.
+I do not say that our people are not justified in gathering the
+harvest the sea casts up. There always must be, there will be wrecks
+on this terrible coast; but there has been--I know there has been,
+though I have not been able to prove it--deliberate provocation of
+wrecks, and that is the sin of Cain. Had I been able to prove----"
+
+"Never mind that now, dear papa. Neither I nor Jamie are, or will be,
+wreckers. Talk of something else. You over-excite yourself."
+
+Judith was accustomed to hear her father talk in an open manner to
+her. She had been his sole companion for several years, since his
+wife's death, and she had become the _confidante_ of his inmost
+thoughts, his vacillations, his discouragements, not of his hopes--for
+he had none, nor of his schemes--for he formed none.
+
+"I do not think I have been of any use in this world," said the old
+parson, relapsing into his tone of discouragement, the temporary flame
+of anger having died away. "My sowing has produced no harvest. I have
+brought light, help, strength to none. I have dug all day in the
+vineyard, and not a vine is the better for it; all cankered and
+fruitless."
+
+"Papa--and me! Have you done nothing for me!"
+
+"You!"
+
+He had not thought of his child.
+
+"Papa! Do you think that I have gained naught from you? No strength,
+no resolution from seeing you toil on in your thankless work, without
+apparent results? If I have any energy and principle to carry me
+through I owe it to you."
+
+He was moved, and raised his trembling hand and laid it on her golden
+head.
+
+He said no more, and was very still.
+
+Presently she spoke. His hands weighed heavily on her head.
+
+"Papa, you are listening to the roar of the sea?"
+
+He made no reply.
+
+"Papa, I felt a cold breath; and see, the sun has a film over it.
+Surely the sea is roaring louder!"
+
+His hand slipped from her head and struck her shoulder--roughly, she
+thought. She turned, startled, and looked at him. His eyes were open,
+he was leaning back, almost fallen against the wall, and was deadly
+pale.
+
+"Papa, you are listening to the roar?"
+
+Then a thought struck her like a bullet in the heart.
+
+"Papa! Papa! My papa!--speak--speak!"
+
+She sprang from the bench--was before him. Her left guelder-rose had
+rolled, had bounded from her lap, and had fallen on the sand the old
+man had listlessly brought up from the church. His work, her play,
+were forever over.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A PASSAGE OF ARMS.
+
+
+The stillness preceding the storm had yielded. A gale had broken over
+the coast, raged against the cliffs of Pentyre, and battered the walls
+of the parsonage, without disturbing the old rector, whom no storm
+would trouble again, soon to be laid under the sands of his buried
+church-yard, his very mound to be heaped over in a few years, and
+obliterated by waves of additional encroaching sand. Judith had not
+slept all night. She--she, a mere child, had to consider and arrange
+everything consequent on the death of the master of the house. The
+servants--cook and house-maid--had been of little, if any, assistance
+to her. When Jane, the house-maid, had rushed into the kitchen with
+the tidings that the old parson was dead, cook, in her agitation,
+upset the kettle and scalded her foot. The gardener's wife had come in
+on hearing the news, and had volunteered help. Judith had given her
+the closet-key to fetch from the stores something needed; and Jamie,
+finding access to the closet, had taken possession of a pot of
+raspberry jam, carried it to bed with him, and spilled it over the
+sheets, besides making himself ill. The house-maid, Jane, had
+forgotten in her distraction to shut the best bedroom casement, and
+the gale during the night had wrenched it from its hinges, flung it
+into the garden on the roof of the small conservatory, and smashed
+both. Moreover, the casement being open, the rain had driven into the
+room unchecked, had swamped the floor, run through and stained the
+drawing-room ceiling underneath, the drips had fallen on the mahogany
+table and blistered the veneer. A messenger was sent to Pentyre Glaze
+for Miss Dionysia Trevisa, and she would probably arrive in an hour or
+two.
+
+Mr. Trevisa, as he had told Judith, was solitary, singularly so. He
+was of a good Cornish family, but it was one that had dwindled till
+it had ceased to have other representative than himself. Once well
+estated, at Crockadon, in S. Mellion, all the lands of the family had
+been lost; once with merchants in the family, all the fortunes of
+these merchants industriously gathered had been dissipated, and
+nothing had remained to the Reverend Peter Trevisa but his family name
+and family coat, a garb or, on a field gules. It really seemed as
+though the tinctures of the shield had been fixed in the crown of
+splendor that covered the head of Judith. But she did not derive this
+wealth of red-gold hair from her Cornish ancestors, but from a
+Scottish mother, a poor governess whom Mr. Peter Trevisa had married,
+thereby exciting the wrath of his only sister and relative, Miss
+Dionysia, who had hitherto kept house for him, and vexed his soul with
+her high-handed proceedings. It was owing to some insolent words used
+by her to Mrs. Trevisa that Peter had quarrelled with his sister at
+first. Then when his wife died, she had forced herself on him as
+housekeeper, but again her presence in the house had become irksome to
+him, and when she treated his children--his delicate and dearly loved
+Judith--with roughness, and his timid, silly Jamie with harshness,
+amounting in his view to cruelty--harsh words had passed between them;
+sharp is, however, hardly the expression to use for the carefully
+worded remonstrances of the mild rector, though appropriate enough to
+her rejoinders. Then she had taken herself off and had become
+housekeeper to Curll Coppinger, Cruel Coppinger, as he was usually
+called, who occupied Pentyre Glaze, and was a fairly well-to-do single
+man.
+
+Mr. Trevisa had not been a person of energy, but one of culture and
+refinement; a dispirited, timid man. Finding no neighbors of the same
+mental texture, nor sympathetic, he had been driven to make of Judith,
+though a child, his companion, and he had poured into her ear all his
+troubles, which largely concerned the future of his children. In his
+feebleness he took comfort from her sanguine confidence, though he was
+well aware that it was bred of ignorance, and he derived a weak
+satisfaction from the thought that he had prepared her morally, at all
+events, if in no other fashion, for the crisis that must come when he
+was withdrawn.
+
+Mr. Peter Trevisa--Peter was a family Christian name--was for
+twenty-five years rector of S. Enodoc, on the north coast of Cornwall
+at the mouth of the Camel. The sand dunes had encroached on the church
+of S. Enodoc, and had enveloped the sacred structure. A hole was
+broken through a window, through which the interior could be reached,
+where divine service was performed occasionally in the presence of the
+church-wardens, so as to establish the right of the rectors, and
+through this same hole bridal parties entered to be coupled, with
+their feet ankle-deep in sand that filled the interior to above the
+pew-tops.
+
+But Mr. Trevisa was not the man to endure such a condition of affairs
+without a protest and an effort to remedy it. He had endeavored to
+stimulate the farmers and land-owners of the parish to excavate the
+buried church, but his endeavors had proved futile. There were several
+reasons for this. In the first place, and certainly foremost, stood
+this reason: as long as the church was choked with sand and could not
+be employed for regular divine service, the tithe-payers could make a
+grievance of it, and excuse themselves from paying their tithes in
+full, because, as they argued, "Parson don't give us sarvice, so us
+ain't obliged to pay'n." They knew their man, that he was
+tender-conscienced, and would not bring the law to bear upon them; he
+would see that there was a certain measure of justness in the
+argument, and would therefore not demand of them a tithe for which he
+did not give them the _quid pro quo_. But they had sufficient
+shrewdness to pay a portion of their tithes, so as not to drive him to
+extremities and exhaust his patience. It will be seen, therefore, that
+in the interests of their pockets the tithe-payers did not want to
+have their parish church excavated. Excavation meant weekly service
+regularly performed, and weekly service regularly performed would be
+followed by exaction of the full amount of rent-charge. Then, again,
+in the second place, should divine service be resumed in the church of
+S. Enodoc, the parishioners would feel a certain uneasiness in their
+consciences if they disregarded the summons of the bell; it might not
+be a very lively uneasiness, but just such an irritation as might be
+caused by a fly crawling over the face. So long as there was no
+service they could soothe their consciences with the thought that
+there was no call to make an effort to pull on Sunday breeches and
+assume a Sunday hat, and trudge to the church. Therefore, secondly,
+for the ease of their own consciences, it was undesirable that S.
+Enodoc should be dug out of the sand.
+
+Then lastly, and thirdly, the engulfment of the church gave them a
+cherished opportunity for being nasty to the rector, and retailing
+upon him for his incaution in condemning smuggling and launching out
+into anathema against wrecking. As he had made matters disagreeable to
+them--tried, as they put it, to take bread out of their mouths, they
+saw no reason why they should spend money to please him.
+
+Mr. Trevisa had made very little provision for his children,
+principally, if not wholly, because he could not. He had received from
+the farmers and land-owners a portion of tithe, and had been contented
+with that rather than raise angry feelings by demanding the whole. Out
+of that portion he was able to put aside but little.
+
+Aunt Dionysia arrived, a tall, bony woman, with hair turning gray,
+light eyes and an aquiline nose, a hard, self-seeking woman, who
+congratulated herself that she did not give way to feelings.
+
+"I feel," said she, "as do others, but I don't show my feelings as
+beggars expose their bad legs."
+
+She went into the kitchen. "Hoity-toity!" she said to the cook, "fine
+story this--scalding yourself. Mind this, you cook meals or no wage
+for you." To Jane, "The mischief you have done shall be valued and
+deducted from any little trifle my brother may have left you in his
+will. Where is Jamie? Give me that joint of fishing-rod; I'll beat him
+for stealing raspberry jam."
+
+Jamie, however, on catching a glimpse of his aunt had escaped into the
+garden and concealed himself. The cook, offended, began to clatter the
+saucepans.
+
+"Now, then," said Mrs. Trevisa--she bore the brevet-rank--"in a house
+of mourning what do you mean by making this noise, it is impertinent
+to me."
+
+The house-maid swung out of the kitchen, muttering.
+
+Mrs. Trevisa now betook herself up-stairs in quest of her niece, and
+found her with red eyes.
+
+"I call it rank _felo-de-se_," said Aunt Dionysia. "Every one
+knew--_he_ knew, that he had a feeble heart, and ought not to be
+digging and delving in the old church. Who sent the sand upon it? Why,
+Providence, I presume. Not man. Then it was a flying in the face of
+Providence to try to dig it out. Who wanted the church? He might have
+waited till the parishioners asked for it. But there--where is Jamie?
+I shall teach him a lesson for stealing raspberry jam."
+
+"Oh, aunt, not now--not now!"
+
+Mrs. Trevisa considered a moment, then laid aside the fishing-rod.
+
+"Perhaps you are right. I am not up to it after my walk from Pentyre
+Glaze. Now, then, what about mourning? I do not suppose Jamie can be
+measured by guesswork. You must bring him here. Tell him the whipping
+is put off till another day. Of course you have seen to black things
+for yourself. Not? Why, gracious heavens! is everything to be thrown
+on my shoulders? Am I to be made a beast of burden of? Now, no mewling
+and pewking. There is no time for that. Whatever _your_ time may be,
+_mine_ is valuable. I can't be here forever. Of course every
+responsibility has been put on me. Just like Peter--no consideration.
+And what can I do with a set of babies? I have to work hard enough to
+keep myself. Peter did not want my services at one time; now I am put
+upon. Have you sent for the undertaker? What about clothing again? I
+suppose you know that you must have mourning? Bless my heart! what a
+lot of trouble you give me."
+
+Mrs. Trevisa was in a very bad temper, which even the knowledge that
+it was seemly that she should veil it could not make her restrain. She
+was, no doubt, to a certain extent fond of her brother--not much,
+because he had not been of any advantage to her; and no doubt she was
+shocked at his death, but chiefly because it entailed on herself
+responsibilities and trouble that she grudged. She would be obliged to
+do something for her nephew and niece; she would have to provide a
+home for them somewhere. She could not take them with her to
+Coppinger's house, as she was there as a salaried servant, and not
+entitled to invite thither her young relatives. Moreover, she did not
+want to have them near her. She disliked young people; they gave
+trouble, they had to be looked after, they entailed expenses. What was
+she to do with them? Where was she to put them? What would they have
+to live upon? Would they call on her to part-maintain them? Miss
+Dionysia had a small sum put away, and she had no intention of
+breaking into it for them. It was a nest-egg, and was laid by against
+an evil day that might come on herself. She had put the money away for
+herself, in her old age, not for the children of her feeble brother
+and his lack-penny wife to consume as moth and rust. As these thoughts
+and questions passed through her mind, Aunt Dionysia pulled open
+drawers, examined cupboards, pried open closets, and searched chests
+and wardrobes.
+
+"I wonder now what he has put by for them," she said aloud.
+
+"Do you mean my dear papa?" asked Judith, whose troubled heart and
+shaken spirits were becoming angry and restless under the behavior of
+the hard, unfeeling woman.
+
+"Yes, I do," answered Mrs. Trevisa, facing round, and glaring
+malevolently at her niece. "It is early days to talk of this, but it
+must be done sooner or later, and if so, the sooner the better. There
+is money in the house, I suppose?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"I must know. You will want it--bills must be paid. You will eat and
+drink, I suppose? You must be clothed. I'll tell you what: I'll put
+the whole case into the hands of Lawyer Jenkyns, and he shall demand
+arrears of tithes. I know what quixotish conduct Peter----"
+
+"Aunt, I will not allow this." A light flush came into the girl's
+cheek.
+
+"It is all very well talking," said Aunt Dionysia; "but black is not
+white, and no power on earth can make me say that it is so. Money must
+be found. Money must be paid for expenses, and it is hard that I
+should have to find it; so I think. What money is there in the house
+for present necessities? I must know."
+
+Suddenly a loud voice was heard shouting through the house--
+
+"Mother Dunes! old Dunes! I want you."
+
+Judith turned cold and white. Who was this that dared to bellow in the
+house of death, when her dear, dear father lay up-stairs with the
+blinds down, asleep? It was an insult, an outrage. Her nerves had
+already been thrilled, and her heart roused into angry revolt by the
+cold, unfeeling conduct of the woman who was her sole relative in the
+world. And now, as she was thus quivering, there came this boisterous
+shout.
+
+"It is the master!" said Mrs. Trevisa, in an awestruck voice, lowered
+as much as was possible to her.
+
+To Coppinger alone she was submissive, cringing, obsequious.
+
+"What does he mean by this--this conduct?" asked Judith, trembling
+with wrath.
+
+"He wants me."
+
+Again a shout. "Dunes! old fool! the keys!"
+
+Then Judith started forward, and went through the door to the head of
+the staircase. At the foot stood a middle-sized, strongly built,
+firmly knit man, in a dress half belonging to the land and half to the
+sea, with high boots on his legs, and slouched hat on his head. His
+complexion was olive, his hair abundant and black, covering cheeks and
+chin and upper lip. His eyes were hard and dark. He had one brown hand
+on the banister, and a foot on the first step, as though about to
+ascend, when arrested by seeing the girl at the head of the stairs
+before him. The house was low, and the steps led without a break
+directly from the hall to the landing which gave communication to the
+bedrooms. There was a skylight in the roof over the staircase, through
+which a brilliant flood of pure white light fell over Judith, whereas
+every window had been darkened by drawn blinds. The girl had found no
+sombre dress suitable to wear, and had been forced to assume the same
+white gown as the day before, but she had discarded the green sash and
+had bound a black ribbon about her waist, and another about her
+abundant hair. A black lace kerchief was drawn over her shoulders
+across her breast and tied at her back. She wore long, black mittens.
+
+Judith stood motionless, her bosom rising and falling quickly, her
+lips set, the breath racing through her nostrils, and one hand resting
+on the banister at the stair-head.
+
+In a moment her eyes met those of Coppinger, and it was at once as
+though a thrill of electric force had passed between them.
+
+He desisted from his attempt to ascend, and said, without moving his
+eyes from hers, in a subdued tone, "She has taken the keys," but he
+said no more. He drew his foot from the step hesitatingly, and
+loosened his hand from the banister, down which went a thrill from
+Judith's quivering nerves, and he stepped back.
+
+At the same moment she descended a step, still looking steadily into
+the dark, threatening pupils, without blinking or lowering her orbs.
+Emboldened by her boiling indignation, she stood on the step she had
+reached with both feet firmly planted there, and finding that the
+banister rattled under her hand she withdrew it, and folded her arms.
+Coppinger raised his hand to his head and took off his hat. He had a
+profusion of dark, curly, flowing hair, that fell and encircled his
+saturnine face.
+
+Then Judith descended another step, and as she did so he retreated a
+step backwards. Behind him was the hall door, open; the light lay wan
+and white there on the gravel, for no sunshine had succeeded the gale.
+At every step that Judith took down the stair Coppinger retreated.
+Neither spoke; the hall was still, save for the sound of their breath,
+and his came as fast as hers. When Judith had reached the bottom she
+turned--Coppinger stood in the doorway now--and signed to her aunt to
+come down with the keys.
+
+"Take them to him--Do not give them here--outside."
+
+Mrs. Trevisa, surprised, confounded, descended the stair, went by her,
+and out through the door. Then Judith stepped after her, shut the door
+to exclude both Aunt Dionysia and that man Coppinger, who had dared,
+uninvited, on such a day to invade the house.
+
+She turned now to remount the stairs, but her strength failed her, her
+knees yielded, and she sank upon a step, and burst into a flood of
+tears and convulsive sobs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+CAPTAIN CRUEL.
+
+
+Captain Coppinger occupied an old farmhouse, roomy, low-built, granite
+quoined and mullioned, called Pentyre Glaze, in a slight dip of the
+hills near the cliffs above the thundering Atlantic. One ash shivered
+at the end of the house--that was the only tree to be seen near
+Pentyre Glaze. And--who was Coppinger? That is more than can be told.
+He had come--no one knew whence. His arrival on the north coast of
+Cornwall was mysterious. There had been haze over the sea for three
+days. When it lifted, a strange vessel of foreign rig was seen lying
+off the coast. Had she got there in the fog, not knowing her course;
+or had she come there knowingly, and was making for the mouth of the
+Camel? A boat was seen to leave the ship, and in it a man came ashore;
+the boat returned to the vessel, that thereupon spread sail and
+disappeared in the fog that re-descended over the water. The man gave
+his name as Coppinger--his Christian name, he said, was Curll, and he
+was a Dane; but though his intonation was not that of the Cornish, it
+was not foreign. He took up his residence in S. Enodoc at a farm, and
+suddenly, to the surprise of every one, became by purchase the
+possessor of Pentyre Glaze, then vacant and for sale. Had he known
+that the estate was obtainable when he had come suddenly out of the
+clouds into the place to secure it? Nobody knew, and Coppinger was
+silent.
+
+Thenceforth Pentyre Glaze became the harbor and den of every lawless
+character along the coast. All kinds of wild uproar and reckless
+revelry appalled the neighborhood day and night. It was discovered
+that an organized band of smugglers, wreckers, and poachers made this
+house the centre of their operations, and that "Cruel Coppinger" was
+their captain. There were at that time--just a century ago--no
+resident magistrates or gentry in the immediate neighborhood. The
+yeomen were bribed, by kegs of spirits left at their doors, to
+acquiesce in a traffic in illicit goods, and in the matter of exchange
+they took their shares. It was said that on one occasion a preventive
+man named Ewan Wyvill, who had pursued Coppinger in his boat, was
+taken by him, and his head chopped off by the captain, with his boat
+axe, on the gunwale. Such was the story. It was never proved. Wyvill
+had disappeared, and the body was recovered headless on the Doom Bar.
+That violence had been used was undoubted, but who had committed the
+crime was not known, though suspicion pointed to Coppinger.
+Thenceforth none ever called him Curll; by one consent he was named
+Cruel. In the West of England every one is given his Christian name.
+An old man is Uncle, and an old woman Aunt, and any one in command is
+a Captain. So Coppinger was known as Captain Cruel, or as Cruel
+Coppinger.
+
+Strange vessels were often seen appearing at regular intervals on the
+coast, and signals were flashed from the one window of Pentyre Glaze
+that looked out to sea.
+
+Among these vessels, one, a full-rigged schooner, soon became
+ominously conspicuous. She was for long the terror of the Cornish
+coast. Her name was The Black Prince. Once, with Coppinger on board,
+she led a revenue cutter into an intricate channel among the rocks,
+where, from knowledge of the bearings, The Black Prince escaped
+scathless, while the king's vessel perished with all on board.
+
+Immunity increased Coppinger's daring. There were certain bridle-roads
+along the fields over which he exercised exclusive control. He issued
+orders that no man should pass over them by night, and accordingly
+from that hour none ever did.[A]
+
+    [A] Many stories of Cruel Coppinger may be found in Hawker's
+    Footprints of Former Men in Cornwall. I have also told them
+    in my Vicar of Morwenstow. I have ventured to translate the
+    scene of Coppinger's activity further west, from Wellcombe to
+    S. Enodoc. But, indeed, he is told of in many places on this
+    coast.
+
+Moreover, if report spoke true--and reports do not arise without
+cause--Coppinger was not averse from taking advantage, and that
+unlawful advantage, of a wreck. By "lawful" and "unlawful" two
+categories of acts are distinguished, not by the laws of the land but
+by common consent of the Cornish conscience. That same Cornish
+conscience distinguished wrecking into two classes, as it
+distinguished then, and distinguishes still, witchcraft into two
+classes. The one, white witchcraft, is legitimate and profitable, and
+to be upheld; the other, black witchcraft, is reprehensible, unlawful,
+and to be put down. So with wrecking. The Bristol Channel teemed with
+shipping, flights of white sails passed in the offing, and these
+vessels were, when inward bound, laden with sugars and spices from the
+Indies, or with spirits and wines from France. If outward bound they
+were deep in the water with a cargo of the riches of England.
+
+Now, should a gale spring up suddenly and catch any of these vessels,
+and should the gale be--as it usually is, and to the Cornish folk,
+favorably is--from the northwest, then there was no harbor of refuge
+along that rock-bound coast, and a ship that could not make for the
+open was bound inevitably to be pounded to pieces against the
+precipitous walls of the peninsula. If such were the case, it was
+perfectly legitimate for every householder in the district to come
+down on the wreck and strip it of everything it contained.
+
+But, on the other hand, there was wrecking that was disapproved of,
+though practised by a few, so rumor said, and that consisted in luring
+a vessel that was in doubt as to her course, by false signals, upon a
+reef or bar, and then, having made a wreck of her, to pillage her.
+When on a morning after a night in which there had been no gale, a
+ship was found on the rocks, and picked as clean as the carcase of a
+camel in the desert, it was open to suspicion that this ship had not
+been driven there by wind or current; and when the survivors, if they
+reached the shore, told that they had been led to steer in the
+direction where they had been cast away by certain lights that had
+wholly deceived them, then it was also open to suspicion that these
+lights had been purposely exhibited for the sake of bringing that
+vessel to destruction; and when, further, it was proved that a certain
+set or gang of men had garnered all the profits, or almost all the
+profits, that accrued from a wreck, before the countryside was aware
+that a wreck had occurred, then it was certainly no very random
+conjecture that the wreck had been contrived in some fashion by those
+who profited by it. There were atrocious tales of murder of
+shipwrecked men circulating, but these were probably wholly, or at
+all events in part, untrue. If when a vessel ran upon the rocks she
+was deserted by her crew, if they took to the boats and made for
+shore, then there remained no impediment to the wreckers taking
+possession; it was only in the event of their finding a skipper on
+board to maintain right over the grounded vessel, or the mariners
+still on her engaged in getting her off, that any temptation to
+violence could arise. But it was improbable that a crew would cling to
+a ship on such a coast when once she was on the breakers. It was a
+moral certainty that they would desert her, and leave the wreck to be
+pillaged by the rats from shore, without offer of resistance. The
+character of the coast-wreckers was known to seamen, or rather a
+legend full of horror circulated relative to their remorseless
+savagery. The fear of wreckers added to the fear of the sea would
+combine to drive a crew, to the last man, into the boats.
+Consequently, though it is possible that in some cases murder of
+castaway men may have occurred, such cases must have been most
+exceptional. The wreckers were only too glad to build a golden bridge
+by which the wrecked might escape. Morally, without a question, those
+who lured a hapless merchantman upon the rocks were guilty of the
+deaths of those sailors who were upset in their boats in escaping from
+the vessel, or were dashed against the cliffs in their attempts to
+land, but there was no direct blood-guiltiness felt in such cases; and
+those who had reaped a harvest from the sea counted their gains
+individually, and made no estimate of the misery accruing thereby to
+others.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+HOP-O'-MY-THUMB.
+
+
+"Listen to me," said Judith.
+
+"Yes, Ju!"
+
+The orphans were together in the room that had been their father's,
+the room in which for some days he had lain with the blinds down, the
+atmosphere heavy with the perfume of flowers, and that indescribable,
+unmistakable scent of death. Often, every day, almost every hour, had
+Judith stolen into the room while he lay there, to wonder with
+infinite reverence and admiration at the purity and dignity of the
+dead face. It was that of the dear, dear father, but sublimed beyond
+her imagination. All the old vacillation was gone, the expression of
+distress and discouragement had passed away, and in their place had
+come a fixity and a calm, such as one sees in the busts of the ancient
+Roman Cæsars, but with a superadded ethereality, if such a word can be
+used, that a piece of pagan statuary never reached. Marvellous, past
+finding out, it is that death, which takes from man the spiritual
+element, should give to the mere clay a look of angelic spirituality,
+yet so it is--so it was with the dead Peter Trevisa; and Judith, with
+eyes filling as fast as dried, stood, her hands folded, looking into
+his face, felt that she had never loved, never admired him half enough
+when he was alive. Life had been the simmer in which all the scum of
+trivialities, of infirmities, of sordidness had come to and shown
+itself on the surface. Now Death had cleared these all away, and in
+the peaceful face of the dead was seen the _real_ man, the nobility,
+sanctity, delicacy that formed the texture of his soul, and which had
+impressed the very clay wrapped about that volatile essence.
+
+As long as the dear father's body lay in the house Judith had not
+realized her utter desolation. But now the funeral was over, and she
+had returned with her brother to the parsonage, to draw up the
+blinds, and let the light once more enter, and search out, and
+revivify the dead rooms.
+
+She was very pale, with reddened eyes, and looking more fragile and
+transparent than ever she did before, worn and exhausted by tearful,
+wakeful nights, and by days of alternating gusts of sorrow and busy
+preparation for the funeral, of painful recollections of joyous days
+that were past, and of doubtful searchings into a future that was full
+of cloud.
+
+Her black frock served to enhance her pallor, and to make her look
+thinner, smaller than when in white or in color.
+
+She had taken her place in her father's high-backed leather chair,
+studded thick with brass nails, the leather dulled and fretted by
+constant use, but the nail-heads burnished by the same treatment.
+
+Her brother was in the same chair with her; both his arms were round
+her neck, and his head was on her shoulder. She had her right arm
+about his waist, her left was bowed, the elbow leaning on the chair
+arm, her hand folded inward, and her weary head rested on its back.
+
+The fine weather broken in upon by the gale had returned; the sun
+shone in unhindered at the window, and blazed on the children's hair;
+the brass nails, polished by friction, twinkled as little suns, but
+were naught in lustre to the gorgeous red of the hair of the twins,
+for the first were but brass, and the other of living gold.
+
+Two more lonely beings could hardly be discovered on the face of the
+earth--at all events in the peninsula of Cornwall--but the sense of
+this loneliness was summed in the heart of Judith, and was there
+articulate; Jamie was but dimly conscious of discomfort and
+bereavement. She knew what her father's death entailed on her, or knew
+in part, and conjectured more. Had she been left absolutely alone in
+the world her condition would have been less difficult than it was
+actually, encumbered with her helpless brother. Swimming alone in the
+tossing sea, she might have struck out with confidence that she could
+keep her head above water, but it was quite otherwise when clinging to
+her was a poor, half-witted boy, incapable of doing anything to save
+himself, and all whose movements tended only to embarrass her. Not
+that she regretted for an instant having to care for Jamie, for she
+loved him with sisterly and motherly love combined, intensified in
+force by fusion; if to her a future seemed inconceivable without
+Jamie, a future without him would be one without ambition, pleasure,
+or interest.
+
+The twin brother was very like her, with the same beautiful and
+abundant hair, delicate in build, and with the same refined face, but
+without the flashes of alternating mood that lightened and darkened
+her face. His had a searching, bewildered, distressed expression on
+it--the only expression it ever bore except when he was out of temper,
+and then it mirrored on its surface his inward ill-humor. His was an
+appealing face, a face that told of a spirit infantile, innocent, and
+ignorant, that would never grow stronger, but which could deteriorate
+by loss of innocence--the only charge of which it was capable. The boy
+had no inherent naughtiness in him, but was constantly falling into
+mischief through thoughtlessness, and he was difficult to manage
+because incapable of reasoning.
+
+What every one saw--that he never would be other than what he
+was--Judith would not admit. She acknowledged his inaptitude at his
+books, his frivolity, his restlessness, but believed that these were
+infirmities to be overcome, and that when overcome the boy would be as
+other boys are.
+
+Now these children--they were aged eighteen, but Jamie looked four
+years younger--sat in their father's chair, clinging to each other,
+all in all to one another, for they had no one else to love and who
+loved them.
+
+"Listen to me, Jamie."
+
+"Yes, Ju, I be----"
+
+"Don't say 'I be'--say 'I am.'"
+
+"Yes, Ju."
+
+"Jamie, dear!" she drew her arm tighter about him; her heart was
+bounding, and every beat caused her pain. "Jamie, dear, you know that,
+now dear papa is gone, and you will never see him in this world again,
+that----"
+
+"Yes, Ju."
+
+"That I have to look to you, my brother, to stand up for me like a
+man, to think and do for me as well as for yourself--a brave, stout,
+industrious fellow."
+
+"Yes, Ju."
+
+"I am a girl, and you will soon be a man, and must work for both of
+us. You must earn the money, and I will spend it frugally as we both
+require it. Then we shall be happy again, and dear papa in Paradise
+will be glad and smile on us. You will make an effort, will you not,
+Jamie? Hitherto you have been able to run about and play and squander
+your time, but now serious days have come upon us, and you must fix
+your mind on work and determine--Jamie--mind, screw your heart to a
+strong determination to put away childish things and be a man, and a
+strength and a comfort to me."
+
+He put up his lips to kiss her cheek, but could not reach it, as her
+head was leaning on her hand away from him.
+
+"What are you fidgeting at, my dear?" she asked, without stirring,
+feeling his body restless under her arm.
+
+"A nail is coming out," he answered.
+
+It was so; whilst she had been speaking to him he was working at one
+of the brass studs, and had loosened its bite in the chair.
+
+"Oh, Jamie! you are making work by thus drawing out a nail. Can you
+not help me a little, and reduce the amount one has to think of and
+do? You have not been attending to what I said, and I was so much in
+earnest." She spoke in a tone of discouragement, and the tone, more
+than the words, impressed the susceptible heart of the boy. He began
+to cry.
+
+"You are cross."
+
+"I am not cross, my pet; I am never cross with you, I love you too
+dearly; but you try my patience sometimes, and just now I am
+overstrained--and then I did want to make you understand."
+
+"Now papa's dead I'll do no more lessons, shall I?" asked Jamie,
+coaxingly.
+
+"You must, indeed, and with me instead of papa."
+
+"Not _rosa_, _rosæ_?"
+
+"Yes, _rosa_, _rosæ_."
+
+Then he sulked.
+
+"I don't love you a bit. It is not fair. Papa is dead, so I ought not
+to have any more lessons. I hate _rosa_, _rosæ_!" He kicked the legs
+of the chair peevishly with his heels. As his sister said nothing,
+seemed to be inattentive--for she was weary and dispirited--he slapped
+her cheek by raising his hand over his head.
+
+"What, Jamie, strike me, your only friend?"
+
+Then he threw his arms round her again, and kissed her. "I'll love
+you; only, Ju, say I am not to do _rosa_, _rosæ_!"
+
+"How long have you been working at the first declension in the Latin
+grammar, Jamie?"
+
+He tried for an instant to think, gave up the effort, laid his head on
+her shoulder, and said:
+
+"I don't know and don't care. Say I am not to do _rosa_, _rosæ_!"
+
+"What! not if papa wished it?"
+
+"I hate the Latin grammar!"
+
+For a while both remained silent. Judith felt the tension to which her
+mind and nerves had been subjected, and lapsed momentarily into a
+condition of something like unconsciousness, in which she was dimly
+sensible of a certain satisfaction rising out of the pause in thought
+and effort. The boy lay quiet, with his head on her shoulder, for a
+while, then withdrew his arms, folded his hands on his lap, and began
+to make a noise by compressing the air between the palms.
+
+"There's a finch out there going 'chink! chink!' and listen, Ju, I can
+make 'chink! chink!' too."
+
+Judith recovered herself from her distraction, and said:
+
+"Never mind the finch now. Think of what I say. We shall have to leave
+this house."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Of course we must, sooner or later, and the sooner the better. It is
+no more ours."
+
+"Yes, it is ours. I have my rabbits here."
+
+"Now that papa is dead it is no longer ours."
+
+"It's a wicked shame."
+
+"Not at all, Jamie. This house was given to papa for his life only;
+now it will go to a new rector, and Aunt Dunes[B] is going to fetch us
+away to another house."
+
+    [B] Dunes is the short for Dionysia.
+
+"When?"
+
+"To-day."
+
+"I won't go," said the boy. "I swear I won't."
+
+"Hush, hush, Jamie! Don't use such expressions. I do not know where
+you have picked them up. We must go."
+
+"And my rabbits, are they to go too?"
+
+"The rabbits? We'll see about them. Aunt----"
+
+"I hate Aunt Dunes!"
+
+"You really must not call her that; if she hears you she will be very
+angry. And consider, she has been taking a great deal of trouble about
+us."
+
+"I don't care."
+
+"My dear, she is dear papa's sister."
+
+"Why didn't papa get a nicer sister--like you?"
+
+"Because he had to take what God gave him."
+
+The boy pouted, and began to kick his heels against the chair-legs
+once more.
+
+"Jamie, we must leave this house to-day. Aunt is coming to take us
+both away."
+
+"I won't go."
+
+"But, Jamie, I am going, and the cook is going, and so is Jane."
+
+"Are cook and Jane coming with us?"
+
+"No, dear."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"We shall not want them. We cannot afford to keep them any more, to
+pay their wages; and then we shall not go into a house of our own. You
+must come with me, and be a joy and rest to me, dear Jamie."
+
+She turned her head over, and leaned it on his head. The sun glowed in
+their mingled hair--all of one tinge and lustre. It sparkled in the
+tears on her cheek.
+
+"Ju, may I have these buttons?"
+
+"What buttons?"
+
+"Look!"
+
+He shook himself free from his sister, slid his feet to the ground,
+went to a bureau, and brought to his sister a large open basket that
+had been standing on the top of the bureau. It had been turned out of
+a closet by Aunt Dionysia, and contained an accumulation of those most
+profitless of collected remnants--odd buttons, coat buttons, brass,
+smoked mother-of-pearl, shirt buttons, steel clasps--buttons of all
+kinds, the gathering together made during twenty-five years. Why the
+basket, after having been turned out of a lumber closet, had been left
+in the room of death, or why, if turned out elsewhere, it had been
+brought there, is more than even the novelist can tell. Suffice it
+that there it was, and by whom put there could not be said.
+
+"Oh! what a store of pretty buttons!" exclaimed the boy. "Do look,
+Ju, these great big ones are just like those on Cheap Jack's red
+waistcoat. Here is a brass one with a horse on it. Do see! Oh, Ju,
+please get your needle and thread and sew this one on to my black
+dress."
+
+Judith sighed. It was in vain for her to impress the realities of the
+situation on his wandering mind.
+
+"Hark!" she exclaimed. "There is Aunt Dunes. I hear her voice--how
+loud she speaks! She has come to fetch us away."
+
+"Where is she going to take us to?"
+
+"I do not know, Jamie."
+
+"She will take us into the forest and lose us, like as did
+Hop-o'-my-Thumb's father."
+
+"There are no forests here--hardly any trees."
+
+"She will leave us in the forest and run away."
+
+"Nonsense, Jamie!"
+
+"I am sure she will. She doesn't like us. She wants to get rid of us.
+I don't care. May I have the basket of buttons?"
+
+"Yes, Jamie."
+
+"Then I'll be Hop-o'-my-Thumb."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE BUTTONS.
+
+
+It was as Judith surmised. Mrs. Dionysia Trevisa had come to remove
+her nephew and niece from the rectory. She was a woman decided in
+character, especially in all that concerned her interests. She had
+made up her mind that the children could not be left unprotected in
+the parsonage, and she could not be with them. Therefore they must go.
+The servants must leave; they would be paid their month's wage, but by
+dismissing them their keep would be economized. There was a factotum
+living in a cottage near, who did the gardening, the cinder-sifting,
+and boot-cleaning for the rectory inmates, he would look after the
+empty house, and wait on in hopes of being engaged to garden, sift
+cinders, and clean boots for the new rector.
+
+As it was settled that the children must leave the house, the next
+thing to consider was where they were to be placed. The aunt could not
+take them to Pentyre Glaze; that was not to be thought of. They must
+be disposed of in some other way.
+
+Mrs. Trevisa had determined on a sale of her brother's effects: his
+furniture, bedding, curtains, carpets, books, plate, and old sermons.
+She was anxious to realize as soon as possible, so as to know for
+certain what she could calculate upon as being left her for the
+support of Judith and her brother. To herself the rector had left only
+a ring and five guineas. She had not expected more. His decease was
+not likely to be a benefit, but, on the contrary, an embarrassment to
+her. He had left about a thousand pounds, but then Mrs. Trevisa did
+not yet know how large a bite out of this thousand pounds would be
+taken by the dilapidations on rectory, glebe, and chancel. The chancel
+of the church was in that condition that it afforded a wide margin for
+the adjudication of dilapidations. They might be set down at ten
+shillings or a thousand pounds, and no one could say which was the
+fairest sum, as the chancel was deep in sand and invisible. The
+imagination of the valuer might declare it to be sound or to be
+rotten, and till dug out no one could impeach his judgment.
+
+In those days, when an incumbent died, the widow and orphans of the
+deceased appointed a valuer, and the incoming rector nominated his
+valuer, and these two cormorants looked each other in the eyes--said
+to each other, "Brother, what pickings?" And as less resistance to
+being lacerated and cleaned to the bone was to be anticipated from
+a broken-hearted widow and helpless children than from a robust,
+red-faced rector, the cormorants contrived to rob the widow and the
+fatherless. Then that cormorant who had been paid to look after the
+interest of the widow and children and had not done it said to the
+other cormorant, "Brother, I've done you a turn this time; do me the
+like when the chance falls to you." Now, although nominally the money
+picked off the sufferers was to go to the account of the incomer, it
+was not allowed to pass till the cormorants had taken toll of it.
+Moreover, these cormorants were architects, builders, solicitors, or
+contractors of some sort, and looked to get something further out of
+the incoming man they favored, whereas they knew they could get
+nothing at all out of the departed man who was buried. Now we have
+pretended to change all this; let us persuade ourselves we have made
+the conduct of these matters more honest and just.
+
+Aunt Dionysia did not know by experience what valuers for
+dilapidations were, but she had always heard that valuation for
+dilapidations materially diminished the property of a deceased
+incumbent. She was consequently uneasy, and anxious to know the worst,
+and make the best of the circumstances that she could. She saw clearly
+enough that the sum that would remain when debts and valuation were
+paid would be insufficient to support the orphans, and she saw also
+with painful clearness that there would be a necessity for her to
+supplement their reduced income from her own earnings. This conviction
+did not sweeten her temper and increase the cordiality with which she
+treated her nephew and niece.
+
+"Now, hoity-toity!" said Aunt Dionysia; "I'm not one of your mewlers
+and pewkers. I have my work to do, and can't afford to waste time in
+the luxury of tears. You children shall come with me. I will see you
+settled in, and then Balhachet shall wheel over your boxes and
+whatever we want for the night. I have been away from my duties longer
+than I ought, and the maids are running wild, are after every one who
+comes near the place like horse-flies round the cattle on a sultry
+day. I will see you to your quarters, and then you must shift for
+yourselves. Balhachet can come and go between the rectory and Zachie
+Menaida as much as you want."
+
+"Are we going to Mr. Menaida's, aunt?" asked Judith.
+
+"Did I not say Zachie Menaida! If I said Zachie Menaida I suppose I
+meant what I said, or are you hard of hearing? Come--time to _me_ is
+precious. Bustle--bustle--don't keep me waiting while you gape."
+
+After a while Mrs. Trevisa succeeded in getting her nephew and niece
+to start. Judith, indeed, was ready at the first suggestion to go with
+her aunt, glad to get over the pang of leaving the house as quickly as
+might be. It was to be the rupture of one thread of the tie that bound
+her to the past, but an important thread. She was to leave the house
+as a home, though she would return to it again and again to carry away
+from it such of her possessions as she required and could find a place
+for at Zachary Menaida's. But with Jamie it was otherwise. He had run
+away, and had to be sought, and when found coaxed and cajoled into
+following his aunt and sister.
+
+Judith had found him, for she knew his nooks and dens. He was seated
+in a laurel bush playing with the buttons.
+
+"Look, Ju! there is some broken mirror among the buttons. Stand still,
+and I will make the sun jump into your eyes. Open your mouth, and I
+will send him down your throat. Won't it be fun; I'll tease old Dunes
+with it."
+
+"Then come along with me."
+
+He obeyed.
+
+The distance to Zachary Menaida's cottage was about a mile and a
+quarter, partly through parish roads, partly through lanes, the way in
+parts walled and hedged up against the winds, in others completely
+exposed to every breath of air where it traversed a down.
+
+Judith walked forward with her aunt, and Jamie lagged. Occasionally
+his sister turned her head to reassure herself that he had not given
+them the slip; otherwise she attended as closely as she was able to
+the instructions and exhortations of her aunt. She and her brother
+were to be lodged temporarily at Uncle Zachie's, that is to say, with
+Mr. Menaida, an elderly, somewhat eccentric man, who occupied a double
+cottage at the little hamlet of Polzeath. No final arrangement as to
+the destination of the orphans could be made till Aunt Dunes knew the
+result of the sale, and how much remained to the children after the
+father's trifling debts had been paid, and the considerable slice had
+been cut out of it by the valuers for dilapidations. Mrs. Trevisa
+talked fast in her harsh tones, and in a loud voice, without
+undulation or softness in it, and expected her niece to hear and give
+account for everything she told her, goading her to attention with a
+sharp reminder when she deemed that her mind was relaxed, and whipping
+her thoughts together when she found them wandering. But, indeed, it
+was not possible to forget for one moment the presence and personality
+of Dionysia, though the subject of her discourse might be unnoticed.
+
+Every fibre of Judith's heart was strung and strained to the
+uttermost, to acutest feeling, and a sympathetic hand drawn across
+them would have produced a soft, thrilling, musical wail. Her bosom
+was so full to overflow that a single word of kindness, a look even
+that told of love, would have sufficed to make the child cast herself
+in a convulsion of grief into her aunt's arms, bury her face in her
+bosom, and weep out her pent-up tears. Then, after perhaps half an
+hour, she would have looked up through the rain into her aunt's face,
+and have smiled, and have loved that aunt passionately,
+self-sacrificingly, to her dying day. She was disposed to love
+her--for was not Dionysia the only relative she had; and was she not
+the very sister of that father who had been to her so much? But Mrs.
+Trevisa was not the woman to touch the taught cords with a light hand,
+or to speak or look in love. She was hard, angular, unsympathetic; and
+her manner, the intonations of her voice, her mode of address, the
+very movements of her body, acted on the strained nerves as a rasping
+file, that would fret till it had torn them through.
+
+Suddenly round a corner, where the narrow road turned, two hundred
+yards ahead, dashed a rider on a black steed, and Judith immediately
+recognized Coppinger on his famous mare Black Bess; a mare much talked
+of, named after the horse ridden by Dick Turpin. The recognition was
+mutual. He knew her instantly; with a jerk of the rein and a set of
+the brow he showed that he was not indifferent.
+
+Coppinger wore his slouched hat, tied under his chin and beard, a
+necessary precaution in that gale-swept country; on his feet to his
+knees were high boots. He wore a blue knitted jersey, and a red
+kerchief about his throat.
+
+Captain Cruel slightly slackened his pace, as the lane was narrow; and
+as he rode past his dark brow was knit, and his eyes flashed angrily
+at Judith. He deigned neither a glance nor a word to his housekeeper,
+who courtesied and assumed a fawning expression.
+
+When he had passed the two women he dug his spurs into Black Bess and
+muttered some words they did not hear.
+
+Judith, who had stood aside, now came forward into the midst of the
+roadway and rejoined her aunt, who began to say something, when her
+words and Judith's attention was arrested by shouts, oaths, and cries
+in their rear.
+
+Judith and her aunt turned to discover the occasion of this
+disturbance, and saw that Coppinger was off his horse, on his feet,
+dragging the brute by the rein, and was hurling his crop, or
+hunting-whip, as he pursued Jamie flying from him with cries of
+terror. But that he held the horse and could not keep up with the boy,
+Jamie would have suffered severely, for Coppinger was in a livid fury.
+
+Jamie flew to his sister.
+
+"Save me, Ju! he wants to kill me."
+
+"What have you done?"
+
+"It is only the buttons."
+
+"Buttons, dear?"
+
+But the boy was too frightened to explain.
+
+Then Judith drew her brother behind her, took from him the basket he
+was carrying, and stepped to encounter the angry man, who came on, now
+struggling with his horse, cursing Bess because she drew back, then
+plunging forward with his whip above his head brandished menacingly,
+and by this conduct further alarmed Black Bess.
+
+Judith met Coppinger, and he was forced to stay his forward course.
+
+"What has he done?" asked the girl. "Why do you threaten?"
+
+"The cursed idiot has strewn bits of glass and buttons along the
+road," answered the Captain, angrily. "Stand aside that I may lash
+him, and teach him to frighten horses and endanger men's lives."
+
+"I am sorry for what Jamie has done. I will pick up the things he has
+thrown down."
+
+Cruel Coppinger's eyes glistened with wrath. He gathered the lash of
+his whip into his palm along with the handle, and gripped them
+passionately.
+
+"Curse the fool! My Bess was frightened, dashed up the bank, and all
+but rolled over. Do you know he might have killed me?"
+
+"You must excuse him; he is a very child."
+
+"I will not excuse him. I will cut the flesh off his back if I catch
+him."
+
+He put the end of the crop handle into his mouth, and, putting his
+right hand behind him, gathered the reins up shorter and wound them
+more securely about his left hand.
+
+Judith walked backward, facing him, and he turned with his horse and
+went after her. She stooped and gathered up a splinter of glass. The
+sun striking through the gaps in the hedge had flashed on these scraps
+of broken mirror and of white bone, or burnished brass buttons, and
+the horse had been frightened at them. As Judith stooped and took up
+now a buckle, then a button, and then some other shining trifle, she
+hardly for an instant withdrew her eyes from Coppinger; they had in
+them the same dauntless defiance as when she encountered him on the
+stairs of the rectory. But now it was she who retreated, step by step,
+and he who advanced, and yet he could not flatter himself that he was
+repelling her. She maintained her strength and mastery unbroken as she
+retreated.
+
+"Why do you look at me so? Why do you walk backward?"
+
+"Because I mistrust you. I do not know what you might do were I not to
+confront you."
+
+"What I might do? What do you think I would do?"
+
+"I cannot tell. I mistrust you."
+
+"Do you think me capable of lashing at you with my crop?"
+
+"I think you capable of anything."
+
+"Flattering that!" he shouted, angrily.
+
+"You would have lashed at Jamie."
+
+"And why not? He might have killed me."
+
+"He might have killed you, but you should not have touched him--not
+have thought of touching him."
+
+"Indeed! Why not?"
+
+"Why not?" She raised herself upright and looked straight into his
+eyes, in which fire flickered, flared, then decayed, then flared
+again.
+
+"You are no Dane, or you would not have asked 'Why not?' twice. Nay,
+you would not have asked it once."
+
+"Not a Dane?" His beard and mustache were quivering, and he snorted
+with anger.
+
+"A Dane, I have read in history, is too noble and brave to threaten
+women and to strike children."
+
+He uttered an oath and ground his teeth.
+
+"No; a Dane would never have thought of asking why not?--why not lash
+a poor little silly boy?"
+
+"You insult me! You dare to do it?"
+
+Her blood was surging in her heart. As she looked into this man's dark
+and evil face she thought of all the distress he had caused her
+father, and a wave of loathing swept over her, nerved her to defy him
+to the uttermost, and to proclaim all the counts she had against him.
+
+"I dare do it," she said, "because you made my own dear papa's life
+full of bitterness and pain----"
+
+"I! I never touched him, hardly spoke to him. I don't care to have to
+do with parsons."
+
+"You made his life one of sorrow through your godless, lawless ways,
+leading his poor flock astray, and bidding them mock at his warnings
+and despise his teachings. Almost with his last breath he spoke of
+you, and the wretchedness of heart you had caused him. And then you
+dared--yes--you dared--you dared to burst into our house where he lay
+dead, with shameful insolence to disturb its peace. And now--" she
+gasped, "and now, ah! you lie when you say you are a Dane, and talk of
+cutting and lashing the dead father's little boy on his father's
+burial day. You are but one thing I can name--a coward!"
+
+Did he mean it? No! But blinded, stung to madness by her words,
+especially that last, he raised his right arm with the crop.
+
+Did she mean it? No! But in the instinct of self-preservation,
+thinking he was about to strike her, she dashed the basket of buttons
+in his face, and they flew right and left over him, against the head
+of Black Bess, a rain of fragments of mirror, brass, steel,
+mother-of-pearl, and bone.
+
+The effect was instantaneous. The mare plunged, reared, threw
+Coppinger backward from off his feet, dashed him to the ground,
+dragged him this way, that way, bounded, still drawing him about by
+the twisted reins, into the hedge, then back, with her hoofs upon him,
+near, if not on, his head, his chest--then, released by the snap of
+the rein, or through its becoming disengaged, Bess darted down the
+lane, was again brought to a standstill by the glittering fragments on
+the ground, turned, rushed back in the direction whence she had come,
+and disappeared.
+
+Judith stood panting, paralyzed with fear and dismay. Was he dead,
+broken to pieces, pounded by those strong hoofs?
+
+He was not dead. He was rolling himself on the ground, struggling
+clumsily to his knees.
+
+"Are you satisfied?" he shouted, glaring at her like a wild beast
+through his tangled black hair that had fallen over his face. "I
+cannot strike you nor your brother now. My arm and the Lord knows what
+other bones are broken. You have done that--and I owe you something
+for it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+UNCLE ZACHIE.
+
+
+The astonishment, the consternation of Mrs. Trevisa at what had
+occurred, which she could not fully comprehend, took from her the
+power to speak. She had seen her niece in conversation with Cruel
+Coppinger, and had caught snatches of what had passed between them.
+All his words had reached her, and some of Judith's. When, suddenly,
+she saw the girl dash the basket of buttons in the face of the
+Captain, saw him thrown to the ground, drawn about by his frantic
+horse, and left, as she thought, half dead, her dismay was unbounded.
+It might have been that Coppinger threatened Judith with his whip, but
+nothing could excuse her temerity in resisting him, in resisting him
+and protecting herself in the way she did. The consequences of that
+resistance she could not measure. Coppinger was bruised, bones were
+broken, and Aunt Dionysia knew the nature of the man too well not to
+expect his deadly animosity, and to feel sure of implacable revenge
+against the girl who had injured him--a revenge that would envelop all
+who belonged to her, and would therefore strike herself.
+
+The elderly spinster had naturally plenty of strength and hardness
+that would bear her through most shocks without discomposure, but such
+an incident as that which had just taken place before her eyes
+entirely unnerved and dismayed her.
+
+Coppinger was conveyed home by men called to the spot, and Mrs.
+Trevisa walked on with her niece and nephew in silence to the house of
+Mr. Zachary Menaida. Jamie had escaped over the hedge, to put a
+stone-and-earth barrier between himself and his assailant directly
+Judith interposed between him and Coppinger. Now that the latter was
+gone, he came, laughing, over the hedge again. To him what had
+occurred was fun.
+
+At Menaida's the aunt departed, leaving her nephew and niece with the
+old man, that she might hurry to Pentyre Glaze and provide what was
+needed for Coppinger. She took no leave of Judith. In the haze of
+apprehension that enveloped her mind glowed anger against the girl for
+having increased her difficulties and jeopardized her position with
+Coppinger.
+
+Mr. Zachary Menaida was an old man, or rather a man who had passed
+middle age, with grizzled hair that stood up above his brow,
+projecting like the beak of a ship or the horn of an unicorn. He had a
+big nose inclined to redness, and kindly, watery eyes, was close
+shaven, and had lips that, whenever he was in perplexity, or worried
+with work or thought, he thrust forward and curled. He was a
+middle-statured man, inclined to stoop.
+
+Uncle Zachie, as he was commonly called behind his back, was a
+gentleman by birth. In the Roman Catholic Church there is a religious
+order called that of Minims. In England we have, perhaps, the most
+widely-diffused of orders, not confined to religion--it is that of
+Crotchets. To this order Mr. Menaida certainly belonged. He was made
+up of hobbies and prejudices that might bore, but never hurt others.
+
+Probably the most difficult achievement one can conceive for a man to
+execute is to stand in his own light; yet Mr. Menaida had succeeded in
+doing this all through his life. In the first place, he had been bred
+up for the law, but had never applied himself to the duties of the
+profession to which he had been articled. As he had manifested as a
+boy a love of music, his mother and sister had endeavored to make him
+learn to play on an instrument; but, because so urged, he had refused
+to qualify himself to play on pianoforte, violin, or flute, till his
+fingers had stiffened, whereupon he set to work zealously to practise,
+when it was no longer possible for him to acquire even tolerable
+proficiency.
+
+As he had been set by his father to work on skins of parchment, he
+turned his mind to skins of another sort, and became an eager
+naturalist and taxidermist.
+
+That he had genius, or rather a few scattered sparks of talent in his
+muddled brain, was certain. Every one who knew him said he was clever,
+but pitied his inability to turn his cleverness to purpose. But one
+must take into consideration, before accepting the general verdict
+that he was clever, the intellectual abilities of those who formed
+this judgment. When we do this, we doubt much whether their opinion is
+worth much. Mr. Menaida was not clever. He had flashes of wit, no
+steady light of understanding. Above all, he had no application, a
+little of which might have made him a useful member of society.
+
+When his articleship was over he set up as a solicitor, but what
+business was offered him he neglected or mismanaged, till business
+ceased to be offered. He would have starved had not a small annuity of
+fifty pounds been left him to keep the wolf from the door, and that he
+was able to supplement this small income with money made by the sale
+of his stuffed specimens of sea-fowl. Taxidermy was the only art in
+which he was able to do anything profitable. He loved to observe the
+birds, to wander on the cliffs listening to their cries, watching
+their flight, their positions when at rest, the undulations in their
+feathers under the movement of the muscles as they turned their heads
+or raised their feet; and when he set himself to stuff the skins he
+was able to imitate the postures and appearance of living birds with
+rare fidelity. Consequently his specimens were in request, and
+ornithologists and country gentlemen whose game-keepers had shot rare
+birds desired to have the skins dealt with, and set in cases, by the
+dexterous fingers of Mr. Zachary Menaida. He might have done more work
+of the same kind, but that his ingrained inactivity and distaste for
+work limited his output. In certain cases Mr. Menaida would not do
+what was desired of him till coaxed and flattered, and then he did it
+grumblingly and with sighs at being subjected to killing toil.
+
+Mr. Menaida was a widower; his married life had not been long; he had
+been left with a son, now grown to manhood, who was no longer at home.
+He was abroad, in Portugal, in the service of a Bristol merchant, an
+importer of wines.
+
+As already said, Uncle Zachie did not begin the drudgery of music till
+it was too late for him to acquire skill on any instrument. His
+passion for music grew with his inability to give himself pleasure
+from it. He occupied a double cottage at Polzeath, and a hole knocked
+through the wall that had separated the lower rooms enabled him to
+keep his piano in one room and his bird-stuffing apparatus in the
+other, and to run from one to the other in his favorite desultory way,
+that never permitted him to stick to one thing at a time.
+
+Into this house Judith and her brother were introduced. Mr. Menaida
+had been attached to the late rector, the only other gentleman in
+culture, as in birth, that lived in the place, and when he was told by
+Miss--or, as she was usually called, Mrs.--Trevisa that the children
+must leave the parsonage and be put temporarily with some one
+suitable, and that no other suitable house was available, he consented
+without making much objection to receive them into his cottage. He was
+a kindly man, gentle at heart, and he was touched at the bereavement
+of the children whom he had known since they were infants.
+
+After the first salutation Mr. Menaida led Judith and the boy into his
+parlor, the room opening out of his workshop.
+
+"Look here," said he, "what is that?" He pointed to his piano.
+
+"A piano, sir," answered Judith.
+
+"Yes--and mind you, I hate strumming, though I love music. When I am
+in, engaged at my labors, no strumming. I come in here now and then as
+relaxation, and run over this and that; then, refreshed, go back to my
+work, but, if there is any strumming, I shall be put out. I shall run
+my knife or needle into my hand, and it will upset me for the day. You
+understand--no strumming. When I am out, then you may touch the keys,
+but only when I am out. You understand clearly? Say the words after
+me: 'I allow no strumming.'"
+
+Judith did as required. The same was exacted of Jamie. Then Mr.
+Menaida said--
+
+"Very well; now we shall have a dish of tea. I daresay you are tired.
+Dear me, you look so. Goodness bless me! indeed you do. What has tired
+you has been the trial you have gone through. Poor things, poor
+things! There, go to your rooms; my maid, Jump, will show you where
+they are, and I will see about making tea. It will do you good. You
+want it. I see it."
+
+The kind-hearted man ran about.
+
+"Bless my soul! where have I put the key of the caddy? And--really--my
+fingers are all over arsenical soap. I think I will leave Jump to make
+the tea. Jump, have you seen where I put the key? Bless my soul!
+where did I have it last? Never mind; I will break open the caddy."
+
+"Please, Mr. Menaida, do not do that for us. We can very well wait
+till the key is found."
+
+"Oh! I don't know when that will be. I shall have forgotten about it
+if I do not find the key at once, or break open the caddy. But, if you
+prefer it, I have some cherry-brandy, or I would give you some
+milk-punch."
+
+"No--no, indeed, Mr. Menaida."
+
+"But Jamie--I am sure he looks tired. A little cherry-brandy to draw
+the threads in him together. And suffer me, though not a doctor, to
+recommend it to you. Bless my soul! my fingers are all over arsenical
+soap. If I don't have some cherry-brandy myself I shall have the
+arsenic get into my system. I hope you have no cuts or scratches on
+your hand. I forgot the arsenic when I shook hands with you. Now, look
+here, Jump, bring in the saffron cake, and I will cut them each a good
+hunch. It will do you good, on my word it will. I have not spared
+either figs or saffron, and then--I will help you, as I love you. Come
+and see my birds. That is a cormorant--a splendid fellow--looks as if
+run out of metal, all his plumage, you know, and in the attitude as if
+swallowing a fish. Do you see!--the morsel is going down his throat.
+And--how much luggage have you? Jump! show the young lady where she
+can put away her gowns and all that sort of thing. Oh, not come yet?
+All right--a lady and her dresses are not long parted. They will be
+here soon. Now, then. What will you have?--some cold beef--and cider?
+Upon my soul!--you must excuse me. I was just wiring that kittiwake.
+Excuse me--I shall be ready in a moment. In the meantime there are
+books--Rollin's 'Ancient History,' a very reliable book. No--upon my
+word, my mind is distracted. I cannot get that kittiwake right without
+a glass of port. I have some good port. Oliver guarantees it--from
+Portugal, you know. He is there--first-rate business, and will make
+his fortune, which is more than his father ever did."
+
+Mr. Menaida went to a closet, and produced a bottle.
+
+"Come here, Jamie. I know what is good for you."
+
+"No--please, Mr. Menaida, do not. He has not been accustomed to
+anything of the sort. Please not, sir."
+
+"Fudge!" said Uncle Zachie, holding up a glass and pouring
+cherry-brandy into it. "What is your age?--seventeen or eighteen, and
+I am fifty-two. I have over thirty years' more experience of the world
+than you. Jamie, don't be tied to your sister's apron-string. I know
+what is best for you. Girls drink water, men something better. Come
+here, Jamie!"
+
+"No, sir--I beseech you."
+
+"Bless my soul! I know what is good for him. Come to me, Jamie. Look
+the other way, Judith, if I cannot persuade you."
+
+Judith sighed, and covered her face with her hands. There was to be no
+help, no support in Uncle Zachie. On the contrary, he would break down
+her power over Jamie.
+
+"Jamie," she said, "if you love me, go up-stairs."
+
+"Presently, Ju. I want that first." And he took it, ran to his sister,
+and said:
+
+"It is good, Ju!"
+
+"You have disobeyed me, Jamie--that is bad."
+
+She stood on the threshold of further trouble, and she knew it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A VISIT.
+
+
+No sleep visited Judith's eyes that night till the first streaks of
+dawn appeared, though she was weary, and her frail body and
+over-exerted brain needed the refreshment of sleep. But sleep she
+could not, for cares were gathering upon her.
+
+She had often heard her father, when speaking of Mr. Menaida, lament
+that he was not a little more self-controlled in his drinking. It was
+not that the old fellow ever became inebriated, but that he hankered
+after the bottle, and was wont to take a nip continually to strengthen
+his nerves, steady his hand, or clear his brain. There was ever ready
+some excuse satisfactory to his own conscience; and it was due to
+these incessant applications to the bottle that his hand shook, his
+eyes became watery, and his nose red. It was a danger Judith must
+guard against, lest this trick should be picked up by the childish
+Jamie, always apt to imitate what he should not, and acquire habits
+easily gained, hardly broken, that were harmful to himself. Uncle
+Zachie, in his good-nature, would lead the boy after him into the same
+habits that marred his own life.
+
+This was one thought that worked like a mole all night in Judith's
+brain; but she had other troubles as well to keep her awake. She was
+alarmed at the consequences of her conduct in the lane. She wondered
+whether Coppinger were more seriously hurt than had at first appeared.
+She asked herself whether she had not acted wrongly when she acted
+inconsiderately, whether in her precipitation to protect herself she
+had not misjudged Coppinger, whether, if he had attempted to strike
+her, it would not have been a lesser evil to receive the blow, than to
+ward it off in such a manner as to break his bones. Knowing by report
+the character of the man, she feared that she had incurred his deadly
+animosity. He could not, that she could see, hurt herself in the
+execution of his resentment, but he might turn her aunt out of his
+house. That she had affronted her aunt she was aware; Mrs. Trevisa's
+manner in parting with her had shown that with sufficient plainness.
+
+A strange jumble of sounds on the piano startled Judith. Her first
+thought and fear were that her brother had gone to the instrument, and
+was amusing himself on the keys. But on listening attentively she was
+aware that there was sufficient sequence in the notes to make it
+certain that the performer was a musician, though lacking in facility
+of execution. She descended the stairs and entered the little
+sitting-room. Uncle Zachie was seated on the music-stool, and was
+endeavoring to play a sonata of Beethoven that was vastly beyond the
+capacity of his stiff-jointed fingers. Whenever he made a false note
+he uttered a little grunt and screwed up his eyes, endeavored to play
+the bar again, and perhaps accomplish it only to break down in the
+next.
+
+Judith did not venture to interrupt him. She took up some knitting,
+and seated herself near the piano, where he might see her without her
+disturbing him. He raised his brows, grunted, floundered into false
+harmony, and exclaimed, "Bless me! how badly they do print music
+nowadays. Who, without the miraculous powers of a prophet, could tell
+that B should be natural?" Then, turning his head over his shoulder,
+addressed Judith, "Good-morning, missie. Are you fond of music?"
+
+"Yes, sir, very."
+
+"So you think. Everyone says he or she is fond of music, because that
+person can hammer out a psalm tune or play the 'Rogue's March.' I hate
+to hear those who call themselves musical strum on a piano. They can't
+feel, they only execute."
+
+"But they can play their notes correctly," said Judith, and then
+flushed with vexation at having made this pointed and cutting remark.
+But it did not cause Mr. Menaida to wince.
+
+"What of that? I give not a thank-you for mere literal music-reading.
+Call Jump, set 'Shakespeare' before her, and she will hammer out a
+scene--correctly as to words; but where is the sense? Where the life?
+You must play with the spirit and play with the understanding also,
+as you must read with the spirit and read with the understanding also.
+It is the same thing with bird-stuffing. Any fool can ram tow into a
+skin and thrust wires into the neck, but what is the result? You must
+stuff birds with the spirit and stuff with the understanding also--or
+it is naught."
+
+"I suppose it is the same with everything one does--one must do it
+heartily and intelligently."
+
+"Exactly! Now you should see my boy, Oliver. Have you ever met him?"
+
+"I think I have; but, to be truthful, I do not recollect him, sir."
+
+"I will bring you his likeness--in miniature. It is in the next room."
+Up jumped Mr. Menaida, and ran through the opening in the wall, and
+returned in another moment with the portrait, and gave it into
+Judith's hands.
+
+"A fine fellow is Oliver! Look at his nose how straight it is. Not
+like mine--that is a pump-handle. He got his good looks from his
+mother, not from me. Ah!" He reseated himself at the piano, and
+ran--incorrectly--over a scale. "It is all the pleasure I have in
+life, to think of my boy, and to look at his picture, and read his
+letters, and drink the port he sends me--first-rate stuff. He writes
+admirable letters, and never a month passes but I receive one. It
+would come expensive if he wrote direct, so his letter is enclosed in
+the business papers sent to the house at Bristol, and they forward it
+to me. You shall read his last--out loud. It will give me a pleasure
+to hear it read by you."
+
+"If I read properly, Mr. Menaida--with the spirit and with the
+understanding."
+
+"Exactly! But you could not fail to do that looking at the cheerful
+face in the miniature, and reading his words--pleasant and bright as
+himself. Pity you have not seen him; well, that makes something to
+live for. He has dark hair and blue eyes--not often met together, and
+when associated, very refreshing. Wait! I'll go after the letter:
+only, bless my soul! where is it? What coat did I have on when I read
+it? I'll call Jump. She may remember. Wait! do you recall this?"
+
+He stumbled over something on the keys which might have been anything.
+
+"It is Haydn. I will tell you what I think: Mozart I delight in as a
+companion; Beethoven I revere as a master; but Haydn I love as a
+friend. You were about to say something?"
+
+Judith had set an elbow on the piano and put her hand to her head, her
+fingers through the hair, and was looking into Uncle Zachie's face
+with an earnestness he could not mistake. She did desire to say
+something to him; but if she waited till he gave her an opportunity
+she might wait a long time. He jumped from one subject to another with
+alacrity, and with rapid forgetfulness of what he was last speaking
+about.
+
+"Oh, sir, I am so very, very grateful to you for having received us
+into your snug little house----"
+
+"You like it? Well, I only pay seven pounds for it. Cheap, is it not?
+Two cottages--laborers' cottages--thrown together. Well, I might go
+farther and fare worse."
+
+"And, Mr. Menaida, I venture to ask you another favor, which, if you
+will grant me, you will lay me under an eternal obligation."
+
+"You may command me, my dear."
+
+"It is only this: not to let Jamie have anything stronger than a glass
+of cider. I do not mind his having that; but a boy like him does not
+need what is, no doubt, wanted by you who are getting old. I am so
+afraid of the habit growing on him of looking for and liking what is
+too strong for him. He is such a child, so easily led, and so unable
+to control himself. It may be a fancy, a prejudice of mine"--she
+passed her nervous hand over her face--"I do hope I am not offending
+you, dear Mr. Menaida; but I know Jamie so well, and I know how
+carefully he must be watched and checked. If it be a silly fancy of
+mine--and perhaps it is only a silly fancy--yet," she put on a
+pleading tone, "you will humor me in this, will you not, Mr. Menaida?"
+
+"Bless my soul! you have only to express a wish and I will fulfil it.
+For myself, you must know, I am a little weak; I feel a chill when the
+wind turns north or east, and am always relaxed when it is in the
+south or west; that forces me to take something just to save me from
+serious inconvenience, you understand."
+
+"Oh quite, sir."
+
+"And then--confound it!--I am goaded on to work when disinclined. Why,
+there's a letter come to me now from Plymouth--a naturalist there,
+asking for more birds; and what can I do? I slave, I am at it all day,
+half the night; I have no time to eat or sleep. I was not born to
+stuff birds. I take it as an amusement, a pastime, and it is converted
+into a toil. I must brace up my exhausted frame; it is necessary to my
+health, you understand!"
+
+"Oh, yes, Mr. Menaida. And you really will humor my childish whim?"
+
+"Certainly, you may rely on me."
+
+"That is one thing I wanted to say. You see, sir, we have but just
+come into your house, and already, last night, Jamie was tempted to
+disobey me, and take what I thought unadvisable, so--I have been
+turning it over and over in my head--I thought I would like to come to
+a clear understanding with you, Mr. Menaida. It seems ungracious in
+me, but you must pity me. I have now all responsibility for Jamie on
+my head, and I have to do what my conscience tells me I should do;
+only, I pray you, do not take offence at what I have said."
+
+"Fudge! my dear; you are right, I dare say."
+
+"And now that I have your promise--I have that, have I not?"
+
+"Yes, certainly."
+
+"Now I want your opinion, if you will kindly give it me. I have no
+father, no mother, to go to for advice; and so I venture to appeal to
+you--it is about Captain Coppinger."
+
+"Captain Coppinger!" repeated Uncle Zachie, screwing up his brows and
+mouth. "Umph! He is a bold man who can give help against Captain
+Coppinger, and a strong man as well as bold. How has he wronged you?"
+
+"Oh! he has not wronged me. It is I who have hurt him."
+
+"You--you!" Uncle Zachie laughed. "A little creature such as you could
+not hurt Captain Cruel!"
+
+"But, indeed, I have; I have thrown him down and broken his arms and
+some of his bones."
+
+"You--you?" Uncle Zachie's face of astonishment and dismay was so
+comical that Judith, in spite of her anxiety and exhaustion, smiled;
+but the smile was without brightness.
+
+"And pray, how in the name of wonder did you do that? Upon my word,
+you will deserve the thanks of the Preventive men. They have no love
+for him; they have old scores they would gladly wipe off with a broken
+arm, or, better still, a cracked skull. And pray how did you do this?
+With the flour-roller?"
+
+"No, sir, I will tell you the whole story."
+
+Then, in its true sequence, with great clearness, she related the
+entire narrative of events. She told how her father, even with his
+last breath, had spoken of Coppinger as the man who had troubled his
+life by marring his work; how that the Captain had entered the
+parsonage without ceremony when her dear father was lying dead
+up-stairs, and how he had called there boisterously for Aunt Dionysia
+because he wanted something of her. She told the old man how that her
+own feelings had been wrought, by this affront, into anger against
+Coppinger. Then she related the incident in the lane, and how that,
+when he raised his arm against her, she had dashed the buttons into
+his face, frightened his horse, and so produced an accident that might
+have cost the Captain his life.
+
+"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "and what do you want? Is it
+an assault? I will run to my law-books and find out; I don't know that
+it can quite be made out a case of misadventure."
+
+"It is not that, sir."
+
+"Then what do you want?"
+
+"I have been racking my head to think what I ought to do under the
+circumstances. There can be no doubt that I aggravated him. I was very
+angry, both because he had been a trouble to my darling papa, and then
+because he had been so insolent as to enter our house and shout for
+Aunt Dunes; but there was something more--he had tried to beat Jamie,
+and it was my father's day of burial. All that roused a bad spirit in
+me, and I did say very bad words to him--words a man of metal would
+not bear from even a child, and I suppose I really did lash him to
+madness, and he would have struck me--but perhaps not, he might have
+thought better of it. I provoked him, and then I brought about what
+happened. I have been considering what I ought to do. If I remain here
+and take no notice, then he will think me very unfeeling, and that I
+do not care that I have hurt him in mind and body. It came into my
+head last night that I would ask aunt to apologize to him for what I
+had done, or, better still, should aunt not come here to-day, which is
+very likely, that I might walk with Jamie to Pentyre and inquire how
+Captain Coppinger is, and send in word by my aunt that I am
+sorry--very sorry."
+
+"Upon my soul, I don't know what to say. I could not have done this to
+Coppinger myself for a good deal of money. I think if I had, I would
+get out of the place as quickly as possible, while he was crippled by
+his broken bones. But then, you are a girl, and he may take it better
+from you than from me. Well--yes; I think it would be advisable to
+allay his anger if you can. Upon my word, you have put yourself into a
+difficult position. I'll go and look at my law-books, just for my own
+satisfaction."
+
+A heavy blow on the door, and without waiting for a response and
+invitation to enter, it was thrown open, and there entered Cruel
+Coppinger, his arm bandaged, tied in splints, and bound to his body,
+with his heavy walking-stick brandished by the uninjured hand. He
+stood for a moment glowering in, searching the room with his keen eyes
+till they rested on Judith. Then he made an attempt to raise his hand
+to his head, but ineffectually.
+
+"Curse it!" said he, "I cannot do it; don't tear it off my head with
+your eyes, girl. Here, you Menaida, come here and take my hat off.
+Come instantly, or she--she will do--the devil knows what she will not
+do to me."
+
+He turned, and with his stick beat the door back, that it slammed
+behind him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A PATCHED PEACE.
+
+
+"Look at her!" cried Coppinger, with his back against the house door,
+and pointing to Judith with his stick.
+
+She was standing near the piano, with one hand on it, and was half
+turned toward him. She was in black, but had a white kerchief about
+her neck. The absence of all color in her dress heightened the lustre
+of her abundant and glowing hair.
+
+Coppinger remained for a moment, pointing with a half sneer on his
+dark face. Mr. Menaida had nervously complied with his demand, and had
+removed the hat from the smuggler, and his dark hair fell about his
+face. That face was livid and pale; he had evidently suffered much,
+and now every movement was attended with pain. Not only had some of
+his bones been broken, but he was bruised and strained.
+
+"Look at her!" he shouted again, in his deep commanding tones, and he
+fixed his fierce eyes on her and knitted his brows. She remained
+immovable, awaiting what he had to say. Though there was a flutter in
+her bosom, her hand on the piano did not shake.
+
+"I am very sorry, Captain Coppinger," said Judith, in a low, sweet
+voice, in which there was but a slight tremulousness. "I profess that
+I believe I acted wrongly yesterday, and I repeat that I am
+sorry--very sorry, Captain Coppinger."
+
+He made no reply. He lowered the stick that had been pointed at her,
+and leaned on it. His hand shook because he was in pain.
+
+"I acted wrongly yesterday," continued Judith, "but I acted under
+provocation that, if it does not justify what I did, palliates the
+wrong. I can say no more--that is the exact truth."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"I am sorry for what was wrong in my conduct--frankly sorry that you
+are hurt."
+
+"You hear her?" laughed Coppinger, bitterly. "A little chit like that
+to speak to me thus"--then, turning sharply on her, "Are you not
+afraid?"
+
+"No, I am not afraid; why should I be?"
+
+"Why? Ask any one in S. Enodoc--any one in Cornwall--who has heard my
+name."
+
+"I beg your pardon. I do not want to ask any one else in S. Enodoc,
+any one else in Cornwall. I ask you."
+
+"Me? You ask me why you should be afraid of me?" He paused, drew his
+thick brows together till they formed a band across his forehead. "I
+tell you that none has ever wronged me by a blade of grass or a flock
+of wool but has paid for it a thousand-fold. And none has ever hurt me
+as you have done--none has ever dared to attempt it."
+
+"I have said that I am sorry."
+
+"You talk like one cold as a mermaid. I do not believe in your
+fearlessness. Why do you lean on the piano. There, touch the wires
+with the very tips of your fingers, and let me hear if they give a
+sound--and sound they will if you tremble."
+
+Judith exposed some of the wires by raising the top of the piano. Then
+she smiled, and stood with the tips of her delicate fingers just
+touching the chords. Coppinger listened, so did Uncle Zachie, and not
+a vibration could they detect.
+
+Presently she withdrew her hand, and said, "Is not that enough? When a
+girl says, 'I am sorry,' I supposed the chapter was done and the book
+closed."
+
+"You have strange ideas."
+
+"I have those in which I was brought up by the best of fathers."
+
+Coppinger thrust his stick along the floor.
+
+"Is it due to the ideas in which you have been brought up that you are
+not afraid--when you have reduced me to a wreck?"
+
+"And you?--are you afraid of the wreck that you have made?"
+
+The dark blood sprang into and suffused his whole face. Uncle Zachie
+drew back against the wall and made signs to Judith not to provoke
+their self-invited visitor; but she was looking steadily at the
+Captain, and did not observe the signals. In Coppinger's presence she
+felt nerved to stand on the defensive, and more, to attack. A threat
+in his whole bearing, in his manner of addressing her, roused every
+energy she possessed.
+
+"I tell you," said he, harshly, "if any man had used the word you
+threw at me yesterday, I would have murdered him; I would have split
+his skull with the handle of my crop."
+
+"You raised your hand to do it to me," said Judith.
+
+"No!" he exclaimed, violently. "It is false; come here, and let me see
+if you have the courage, the fearlessness you affect. You women are
+past-masters of dissembling. Come here; kneel before me and let me
+raise my stick over you. See; there is lead in the handle, and with
+one blow I can split your skull and dash the brains over the floor."
+
+Judith remained immovable.
+
+"I thought it--you are afraid."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+He let himself, with some pain, slowly into a chair.
+
+"You are afraid. You know what to expect. Ah! I could fell you and
+trample on you and break your bones, as I was cast down, trampled on,
+and broken in my bones yesterday--by you, or through you. Are you
+afraid?"
+
+She took a step toward him. Then Uncle Zachie waved her back, in great
+alarm. He caught Judith's attention, and she answered him, "I am not
+afraid. I gave him a word I should not have given him yesterday. I
+will show him that I retract it fully." Then she stepped up to
+Coppinger and sank on her knees before him. He raised his whip, with
+the loaded handle, brandishing it over her.
+
+"Now I am here," she said, "I again ask your forgiveness, but I
+protest an apology is due to me."
+
+He threw his stick away. "By heaven, it is!" Then in an altered tone,
+"Take it so, that I ask your forgiveness. Get up; do not kneel to me.
+I could not have struck you down had I willed, my arm is stiff.
+Perhaps you knew it."
+
+He rose with effort to his feet again. Judith drew back to her former
+position by the piano, two hectic spots of flame were in her cheek,
+and her eyes were preternaturally bright.
+
+Coppinger looked steadily at her for a while, then he said, "Are you
+ill? You look as if you were."
+
+"I have had much to go through of late."
+
+"True."
+
+He remained looking at her, brooding over something in his mind. She
+perplexed him; he wondered at her. He could not comprehend the spirit
+that was in her, that sustained a delicate little frame, and made her
+defy him.
+
+His eyes wandered round the room, and he signed to Uncle Zachie to
+give him his stick again.
+
+"What is that?" said he, pointing to the miniature on the stand for
+music, where Mr. Menaida had put it, over a sheet of the music he had
+been playing, or attempting to play.
+
+"It is my son, Oliver," said Uncle Zachie.
+
+"Why is it there? Has she been looking at it? Let me see it."
+
+Mr. Menaida hesitated, but presently handed it to the redoubted
+Captain, with nervous twitches in his face. "I value it highly--my
+only child."
+
+Coppinger looked at it, with a curl of his lips; then handed it back
+to Mr. Menaida.
+
+"Why is it here?"
+
+"I brought it here to show it her. I am very proud of my son," said
+Uncle Zachie.
+
+Coppinger was in an irritable mood, captious about trifles. Why did he
+ask questions about this little picture? Why look suspiciously at
+Judith as he did so--suspiciously and threateningly?
+
+"Do you play on the piano?" asked Coppinger. "When the evil spirit was
+on Saul, David struck the harp and sent the spirit away. Let me hear
+how you can touch the notes. It may do me good. Heaven knows it is not
+often I have the leisure, or the occasion, or am in the humor for
+music. I would hear what you can do."
+
+Judith looked at Uncle Zachie.
+
+"I cannot play," she said; "that is to say, I can play, but not now,
+and on this piano."
+
+But Mr. Menaida interfered and urged her to play. He was afraid of
+Coppinger.
+
+She seated herself on the music-stool and considered for a moment. The
+miniature was again on the stand. Coppinger put out his stick and
+thrust it off, and it would have fallen had not Judith caught it. She
+gave it to Mr. Menaida, who hastily carried it into the adjoining
+room, where the sight of it might no longer irritate the Captain.
+
+"What shall I play? I mean, strum?" asked Judith, looking at Uncle
+Zachie. "Beethoven! No--Haydn. Here are his 'Seasons.' I can play
+'Spring.'"
+
+She had a light, but firm touch. Her father had been a man of great
+musical taste, and he had instructed her. But she had, moreover, the
+musical faculty in her, and she played with the spirit and with the
+understanding also. Wondrous is the power of music, passing that of
+fabled necromancy. It takes a man up out of his most sordid
+surroundings, and sets him in heavenly places. It touches fibres of
+the inner nature, lost, forgotten, ignored, and makes them thrill with
+a new life. It seals the eyes to outward sights, and unfurls new
+vistas full of transcendental beauty; it breathes over hot wounds and
+heals them; it calls to the surface springs of pure delight, and bids
+them gush forth in an arid desert.
+
+It was so now, as, under the sympathetic fingers of Judith, Haydn's
+song of the "Spring" was sung. A May world arose in that little dingy
+room; the walls fell back and disclosed green woods thick with red
+robin and bursting bluebells, fields golden with buttercups, hawthorns
+clothed in flower, from which sang the blackbird, thrush, the finch,
+and the ouzel. The low ceiling rose and overarched as the speed-well
+blue vault of heaven, the close atmosphere was dispelled by a waft of
+crisp, pure air; shepherds piped, Boy Blue blew his horn, and
+milkmaids rattled their pails and danced a ballet on the turf; and
+over all, down into every corner of the soul, streamed the glorious,
+golden sun, filling the heart with gladness.
+
+Uncle Zachie had been standing at the door leading into his workshop,
+hesitating whether to remain, with a pish! and a pshaw! or to fly away
+beyond hearing. But he was arrested, then drawn lightly, irresistibly,
+step by step, toward the piano, and he noiselessly sank upon a chair,
+with his eyes fixed on Judith's fingers as they danced over the keys.
+His features assumed a more refined character as he listened; the
+water rose into his eyes, his lips quivered, and when, before reaching
+the end of the piece, Judith faltered and stopped, he laid his hand on
+her wrist and said: "My dear--you play, you do not strum. Play when
+you will--never can it be too long, too much for me. It may steady my
+hand, it may dispel the chill and the damp better than--but never
+mind--never mind."
+
+Why had Judith failed to accomplish the piece? Whilst engaged on the
+notes she had felt that the searching, beaming eyes of the smuggler
+were on her, fixed with fierce intensity. She could meet them, looking
+straight at him, without shrinking, and without confusion, but to be
+searched by them whilst off her guard, her attention engaged on her
+music, was what she could not endure.
+
+Coppinger made no remark on what he had heard, but his face gave token
+that the music had not swept across him without stirring and softening
+his hard nature.
+
+"How long is she to be here with you?" he asked, turning to Uncle
+Zachie.
+
+"Captain, I cannot tell. She and her brother had to leave the rectory.
+They could not remain in that house alone. Mrs. Trevisa asked me to
+lodge them here, and I consented. I knew their father."
+
+"She did not ask me. I would have taken them in."
+
+"Perhaps she was diffident of doing that," said Uncle Zachie. "But
+really, on my word, it is no inconvenience to me. I have room in this
+house, and my maid, Jump, has not enough to do to attend on me."
+
+"When you are tired of them send them to me."
+
+"I am not likely to be tired of Judith, now that I have heard her
+play."
+
+"Judith--is that her name?"
+
+"Yes--Judith."
+
+"Judith!" he repeated, and thrust his stick along the floor,
+meditatively. "Judith!" Then, after a pause, with his eyes on the
+ground, "Why did not your aunt speak to me! Why does she not love
+you?--she does not, I know. Why did she not go to see you when your
+father was alive! Why did you not come to the Glaze?"
+
+"My dear papa did not wish me to go to your house," said Judith,
+answering one of his many questions, the last, and perhaps the easiest
+to reply to.
+
+"Why not?" he glanced up at her, then down on the floor again.
+
+"Papa was not very pleased with Aunt Dunes--it was no fault on either
+side, only a misunderstanding," said Judith.
+
+"Why did he not let you come to my house to salute your aunt?"
+
+Judith hesitated. He again looked up at her searchingly.
+
+"If you really must know the truth, Captain Coppinger, papa thought
+your house was hardly one to which to send two children--it was said
+to harbor such wild folk."
+
+"And he did not know how fiercely and successfully you could defend
+yourself against wild folk," said Coppinger, with a harsh laugh. "It
+is we wild men that must fear you, for you dash us about and bruise
+and break us when displeased with our ways. We are not so bad at the
+Glaze as we are painted, not by a half--here is my hand on it."
+
+Judith was still seated on the music-stool, her hands resting in her
+lap. Coppinger came toward her, walking stiffly, and extending his
+palm.
+
+She looked down in her lap. What did this fierce, strange man, mean?
+
+"Will you give me your hand?" he asked. "Is there peace between us?"
+
+She was doubtful what to say. He remained, awaiting her answer.
+
+"I really do not know what reply to make," she said, after awhile. "Of
+course, so far as I'm concerned, it is peace. I have myself no quarrel
+with you, and you are good enough to say that you forgive me."
+
+"Then why not peace?"
+
+Again she let him wait before answering. She was uneasy and unhappy.
+She wanted neither his goodwill nor his hostility.
+
+"In all that affects me, I bear you no ill-will," she said, in a low,
+tremulous voice; "but in that you were a grief to my dear, dear
+father, discouraging his heart, I cannot be forgetful, and so full of
+charity as to blot it out as though it had not been."
+
+"Then let it be a patched peace--a peace with evasions and
+reservations. Better that than none. Give me your hand."
+
+"On that understanding," said Judith, and laid her hand in his. His
+iron fingers closed round it, and he drew her up from the stool on
+which she sat, drew her forward near the window, and thrust her in
+front of him. Then he raised her hand, held it by the wrist, and
+looked at it.
+
+"It is very small, very weak," he said, musingly.
+
+Then there rushed over her mind the recollection of her last
+conversation with her father. He, too, had taken and looked at her
+hand, and had made the same remark.
+
+Coppinger lowered her hand and his, and, looking at her, said:
+
+"You are very wonderful to me."
+
+"I--why so?"
+
+He did not answer, but let go his hold of her, and turned away to the
+door.
+
+Judith saw that he was leaving, and she hastened to bring him his
+stick, and she opened the door for him.
+
+"I thank you," he said, turned, pointed his stick at her, and added,
+"It is peace--though a patched one."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+C. C.
+
+
+Days ensued, not of rest to body, but of relaxation to mind. Judith's
+overstrained nerves had now given them a period of numbness, a sleep
+of sensibility with occasional turnings and wakenings, in which they
+recovered their strength. She and Jamie were settled into their rooms
+at Mr. Menaida's, and the hours were spent in going to and from the
+rectory removing their little treasures to the new home--if a
+temporary place of lodging could be called a home--and in arranging
+them there.
+
+There were a good many farewells to be taken, and Judith marvelled
+sometimes at the insensibility with which she said them--farewells to
+a thousand nooks and corners of the house and garden, the shrubbery,
+and the glebe farm, all endeared by happy recollections, now having
+their brightness dashed with rain.
+
+To Judith this was a first revelation of the mutability of things on
+earth. Hitherto, as a child, with a child's eyes and a child's
+confidence, she had regarded the rectory, the glebe, the contents of
+the house, the flowers in the garden, as belonging inalienably to her
+father and brother and herself. They belonged to them together. There
+was nothing that was her father's that did not belong to Jamie and to
+her, nothing of her brother's or her own that was not likewise the
+property of papa. There was no mine or thine in that little family of
+love--save only a few birthday presents given from one to the other,
+and these only special property by a playful concession. But now the
+dear father was gone, and every right seemed to dissolve. From the
+moment that he leaned back against the brick, lichen-stained wall, and
+sighed--and was dead, house and land had been snatched from them. And
+though the contents of the rectory, the books, and the furniture, and
+the china belonged to them, it was but for a little while; these
+things must be parted with also, turned into silver.
+
+Not because the money was needed, but because Judith had no settled
+home, and no prospect of one. Therefore she must not encumber herself
+with many belongings. For a little while she would lodge with Mr.
+Menaida, but she could not live there forever; she must remove
+elsewhere, and she must consider, in the first place, that there was
+not room in Uncle Zachie's cottage for accumulations of furniture, and
+that, in the next place, she would probably have to part with them on
+her next remove, even if she did retain them for a while.
+
+If these things were to be parted with, it would be advisable to part
+with them at once. But to this determination Judith could not bring
+herself at first. Though she had put aside, to be kept, things too
+sacred to her, too much part of her past life, to be allowed to go
+into the sale, after a few days she relinquished even these. Those six
+delightful old colored prints, in frames, of a fox-hunt--how Jamie had
+laughed at them, and followed the incidents in them, and never wearied
+of them--must they go--perhaps for a song? It must be so. That
+work-table of her mother's, of dark rosewood, with a crimson bag
+beneath it to contain wools and silks, one of the few remembrances she
+had of that mother whom she but dimly recalled--must that go?--what,
+and all those skeins in it of colored floss silk, and the piece of
+embroidery half finished? the work of her mother, broken off by
+death--that also? It must be so. And that rusty leather chair in which
+papa had sat, with one golden-headed child on each knee cuddled into
+his breast, with the flaps of his coat drawn over their heads, which
+listened to the tick-tick of his great watch, and to the tale of
+Little Snowflake, or Gracieuse and Percinet?--must that go also? It
+must be so.
+
+Every day showed to Judith some fresh link that had to be broken. She
+could not bear to think that the mother's work-table should be
+contended for at a vulgar auction, and struck down to a blousy
+farmer's wife; that her father's chair should go to some village inn
+to be occupied by sots. She would rather have seen them destroyed; but
+to destroy them would not be right.
+
+After a while she longed for the sale; she desired to have it over,
+that an entirely new page of life might be opened, and her thoughts
+might not be carried back to the past by everything she saw.
+
+Of Coppinger nothing further was seen. Nor did Aunt Dionysia appear at
+the rectory to superintend the assortment of the furniture, nor at Mr.
+Menaida's to inquire into the welfare of her nephew and niece. To
+Judith it was a relief not to have her aunt in the parsonage while she
+was there; that hard voice and unsympathetic manner would have kept
+her nerves on the quiver. It was best as it was, that she should have
+time, by herself, with no interference from any one, to select what
+was to be kept and put away what was to be sold; to put away gently,
+with her own trembling hand, and with eyes full of tears, the old
+black gown and the Oxford hood that papa had worn in church, and to
+burn his old sermons and bundles of letters, unread and uncommented on
+by Aunt Dunes.
+
+In these days Judith did not think much of Coppinger. Uncle Zachie
+informed her that he was worse, he was confined to his bed, he had
+done himself harm by coming over to Polzeath the day after his
+accident, and the doctor had ordered him not to stir from Pentyre
+Glaze for some time--not till his bones were set. Nothing was known of
+the occasion of Coppinger's injuries, so Uncle Zachie said; it was
+reported in the place that he had been thrown from his horse. Judith
+entreated the old man not to enlighten the ignorance of the public;
+she was convinced that naught would transpire through Jamie, who could
+not tell a story intelligibly; and Miss Dionysia Trevisa was not
+likely to publish what she knew.
+
+Judith had a pleasant little chamber at Mr. Menaida's; it was small,
+low, plastered against the roof, the rafters showing, and whitewashed
+like the walls and ceiling. The light entered from a dormer in the
+roof, a low window glazed with diamond quarries set in lead that
+clickered incessantly in the wind. It faced the south, and let the sun
+flow in. A scrap of carpet was on the floor, and white curtains to the
+window. In this chamber Judith ranged such of her goods as she had
+resolved on retaining, either as indispensable, or as being too dear
+to her to part with unnecessarily, and which, as being of small size,
+she might keep without difficulty.
+
+Her father's old travelling trunk, covered with hide with the hair
+on, and his initials in brass nails--a trunk he had taken with him to
+college--was there, thrust against the wall; it contained her clothes.
+Suspended above it was her little bookcase, with the shelves laden
+with "The Travels of Rolando," Dr. Aitkin's "Evenings at Home,"
+Magnal's "Questions," a French Dictionary, "Paul and Virginia," and a
+few other works such as were the delight of children from ninety to a
+hundred years ago.
+
+Books for children were rare in those days, and such as were produced
+were read and re-read till they were woven into the very fibre of the
+mind, never more to be extricated and cast aside. Now it is otherwise.
+A child reads a story-book every week, and each new story-book effaces
+the impression produced by the book that went before. The result of
+much reading is the same as the result of no reading--the production
+of a blank.
+
+How Judith and Jamie had sat together perched up in a sycamore, in
+what they called their nest, and had revelled in the adventures of
+Rolando, she reading aloud, he listening a little, then lapsing into
+observation of the birds that flew and hopped about, or the insects
+that spun and crept, or dropped on silky lines, or fluttered humming
+about the nest, then returned to attention to the book again! Rolando
+would remain through life the friend and companion of Judith. She
+could not part with the four-volumed, red-leather-backed book.
+
+For the first day or two Jamie had accompanied his sister to the
+rectory, and had somewhat incommoded her by his restlessness and his
+mischief, but on the third day, and thenceforth, he no longer attended
+her. He had made fast friends with Uncle Zachie. He was amused with
+watching the process of bird-stuffing, and the old man made use of the
+boy by giving him tow to pick to pieces and wires to straighten.
+
+Mr. Menaida was pleased to have some one by him in his workshop to
+whom he could talk. It was unimportant to him whether the listener
+followed the thread of his conversation or not, so long as he was a
+listener. Mr. Menaida, in his solitude, had been wont to talk to
+himself, to grumble to himself at the impatience of his customers, to
+lament to himself the excess of work that pressed upon him and
+deprived him of time for relaxation. He was wont to criticise, to
+himself, his success or want of success in the setting-up of a bird.
+It was far more satisfactory to him to be able to address all these
+remarks to a second party.
+
+He was, moreover, surprised to find how keen and just had been Jamie's
+observation of birds, their ways, their attitudes. Judith was
+delighted to think that Jamie had discovered talent of some sort, and
+he had, so Uncle Zachie assured her, that imitative ability which is
+often found to exist alongside with low intellectual power, and this
+enabled him to assist Mr. Menaida in giving a natural posture to his
+birds.
+
+It flattered the boy to find that he was appreciated, that he was
+consulted, and asked to assist in a kind of work that exacted nothing
+of his mind.
+
+When Uncle Zachie was tired of his task, which was every ten minutes
+or quarter of an hour, and that was the extreme limit to which he
+could continue regular work, he lit his pipe, left his bench, and sat
+in his arm-chair. Then Jamie also left his tow-picking or
+wire-punching, and listened, or seemed to listen, to Mr. Menaida's
+talk. When the old man had finished his pipe, and, with a sigh, went
+back to his task, Jamie was tired of hearing him talk, and was glad to
+resume his work. Thus the two desultory creatures suited each other
+admirably, and became attached friends.
+
+"Jamie! what is the meaning of this?" asked Judith, with a start and a
+rush of blood to her heart.
+
+She had returned in the twilight from the parsonage. There was
+something in the look of her brother, something in his manner that was
+unusual.
+
+"Jamie! What have you been taking? Who gave it you?"
+
+She caught the boy by the arm. Distress and shame were in her face, in
+the tones of her voice.
+
+Mr. Menaida grunted.
+
+"I'm sorry, but it can't be helped--really it can't," said he,
+apologetically. "But Captain Coppinger has sent me down a present of a
+keg of cognac--real cognac, splendid, amber-like--and, you know, it was
+uncommonly kind. He never did it before. So there was no avoidance; we
+had to tap it and taste it, and give a sup to the fellow who brought
+us the keg, and drink the health of the Captain. One could not be
+churlish; and, naturally, I could not abstain from letting Jamie try
+the spirit. Perfectly pure--quite wholesome--first-rate quality. Upon
+my word, he had not more than a fly could dip his legs in and feel the
+bottom; but he is unaccustomed to anything stronger than cider, and
+this is stronger than I supposed."
+
+"Mr. Menaida, you promised me--"
+
+"Bless me! There are contingencies, you know. I never for a moment
+thought that Captain Coppinger would show me such a favor, would have
+such courtesy. But, upon my honor, I think it is your doing, my dear!
+You shook hands and made peace with him, and he has sent this in token
+of the cessation of hostilities and the ratification of the
+agreement."
+
+"Mr. Menaida, I trusted you. I did believe, when you passed your word
+to me, that you would hold to it."
+
+"Now--there, don't take it in that way. Jamie, you rascal, hop off to
+bed. He'll be right as a trivet to-morrow morning, I stake my
+reputation on that. There, there, I will help him up-stairs."
+
+Judith suffered Mr. Menaida to do as he proposed. When he had left the
+room with Jamie, who was reluctant to go, and struggled to remain, she
+seated herself on the sofa, and covering her face with her hands burst
+into tears. Whom could she trust? No one.
+
+Had she been alone in the world she would have been more confident of
+the future, been able to look forward with a good courage; but she had
+to carry Jamie with her, who must be defended from himself, and from
+the weak good-nature of those he was with.
+
+When Uncle Zachie came down-stairs he slunk into his workroom and was
+very quiet. No lamp or candle was lighted, and it was too dark for him
+to continue his employment on the birds. What was he doing? Nothing.
+He was ashamed of himself, and keeping out of Judith's way.
+
+But Judith would not let him escape so easily; she went to him, as he
+avoided her, and found him seated in a corner turning his pipe about.
+He had been afraid of striking a light, lest he should call her
+attention to his presence.
+
+"Oh, my dear, come in here into the workshop to me! This is an honor,
+an unexpected pleasure. Jamie and I have been drudging like slaves all
+day, and we're fagged--fagged to the ends of our fingers and toes."
+
+"Mr. Menaida, I am sorry to say it, but if such a thing happens again
+as has taken place this evening, Jamie and I must leave your house. I
+thank you with an overflowing heart for your goodness to us; but I
+must consider Jamie above everything else, and I must see that he be
+not exposed to temptation."
+
+"Where will you take him?"
+
+"I cannot tell; but I must shield him."
+
+"There, there, not a word! It shall never happen again. Now let
+by-gones be by-gones, and play me something of Beethoven, while I sit
+here and listen in the twilight."
+
+"No, Mr. Menaida, I cannot. I have not the spirit to do it. I can
+think only of Jamie."
+
+"So you punish me!"
+
+"Take it so. I am sorry; but I cannot do otherwise."
+
+"Now, look here! Bless my soul! I had almost forgotten it. Here is a
+note for you, from the Captain, I believe." He went to the
+chimney-piece and took down a scrap of paper, folded and sealed.
+
+Judith looked at it and went to the window, broke the seal, and opened
+the paper. She read--
+
+    "Why do you not come and see me? You do not care for what you
+    have done. They call me cruel; but you are that.--C. C."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+EGO ET REGINA MEA.
+
+
+The strange, curt note from Cruel Coppinger served in a measure to
+divert the current of Judith's thoughts from her trouble about Jamie.
+It was, perhaps, as well, or she would have fretted over that
+throughout the night, not only because of Jamie, but because she felt
+that her father had left his solemn injunction on her to protect and
+guide her twin-brother, and she knew that whatsoever harm, physical or
+moral, came to him, argued a lack of attention to her duty. Her father
+had not been dead many days, and already Jamie had been led from the
+path she had undertaken to keep him in.
+
+But when she began to worry herself about Jamie, the bold characters,
+"C. C.," with which the letter was signed, rose before her, and glowed
+in the dark as characters of fire.
+
+She had gone to her bedroom, and had retired for the night, but could
+not sleep. The moon shone through the lattice into her chamber, and on
+the stool by the window lay the letter, where she had cast it. Her
+mind turned to it.
+
+Why did Coppinger call her cruel? Was she cruel? Not intentionally so.
+She had not wilfully injured him. He did not suppose that. He meant
+that she was heartless and indifferent in letting him suffer without
+making any inquiry concerning him.
+
+He had injured himself by coming to Polzeath to see her the day
+following his accident. Uncle Zachie had assured her of that.
+
+She went on in her busy mind to ask why he had come to see her? Surely
+there had been no need for him to do so! His motive--the only motive
+she could imagine--was a desire to relieve her from anxiety and
+distress of mind; a desire to show her that he bore no ill-will toward
+her for what she had done. That was generous and considerate of him.
+Had he not come she certainly would have been unhappy and in unrest,
+would have imagined all kinds of evil as likely to ensue through his
+hostility--for one thing, her aunt's dismissal from her post might
+have been expected.
+
+But Coppinger, though in pain, and at a risk to his health, had walked
+to where she was lodging to disabuse her of any such impression. She
+was grateful to him for so doing. She felt that such a man could not
+be utterly abandoned by God, entirely void of good qualities, as she
+had supposed, viewing him only through the representations of his
+character and the tales circulating relative to his conduct that had
+reached her.
+
+A child divides mankind into two classes--the good and the bad, and
+supposes that there is no debatable land between them, where light and
+shade are blended into neutral tint; certainly not that there are
+blots on the white leaf of the lives of the good, and luminous
+glimpses in the darkness of the histories of the bad. As they grow
+older they rectify their judgments, and such a rectification Judith
+had now to make.
+
+She was assisted in this by compassion for Coppinger, who was in
+suffering, and by self-reproach, because she was the occasion of this
+suffering.
+
+What were the exact words Captain Cruel had employed? She was not
+certain; she turned the letter over and over in her mind, and could
+not recall every expression, and she could not sleep till she was
+satisfied.
+
+Therefore she rose from bed, stole to the window, took up the letter,
+seated herself on the stool, and conned it in the moonlight. "Why do
+you not come and see me? You do not care for what you have done." That
+was not true; she was greatly troubled at what she had done. She was
+sick at heart when she thought of that scene in the lane, when the
+black mare was leaping and pounding with her hoofs, and Coppinger lay
+on the ground. One kick of the hoof on his head, and he would have
+been dead. His blood would have rested on her conscience, never to be
+wiped off. Horrible was the recollection now, in the stillness of the
+night. It was marvellous that life had not been beaten out of the
+prostrate man, that, dragged about by the arm, he had not been torn to
+pieces, that every bone had not been shattered, that his face had not
+been battered out of recognition. Judith felt the perspiration stand
+on her brow at the thought. God had been very good to her in sending
+His angel to save Coppinger from death and her from blood-guiltiness.
+She slid to her knees at the window, and held up her hands, the
+moonlight illuminating her white upturned face, as she gave thanks to
+Heaven that no greater evil had ensued from her inconsidered act with
+the button-basket than a couple of broken bones.
+
+Oh! it was very far indeed from true that she did not care for what
+she had done. Coppinger must have been blind indeed not to have seen
+how she felt her conduct. His letter concluded: "They call me cruel;
+but you are that." He meant that she was cruel in not coming to the
+Glaze to inquire after him. He had thought of her trouble of mind, and
+had gone to Polzeath to relieve her of anxiety, and she had shown no
+consideration for him--or not in like manner.
+
+She had been very busy at the rectory. Her mind had been concerned
+with her own affairs, that was her excuse. Cruel she was not. She took
+no pleasure in his pain. But she hesitated about going to see him.
+That was more than was to be expected of a young girl. She would go on
+the morrow to Coppinger's house, and ask to speak to her aunt; that
+she might do, and from Aunt Dionysia she would learn in what condition
+Captain Cruel was, and might send him her respects and wishes for his
+speedy recovery.
+
+As she still knelt in her window, looking up through the diamond panes
+into the clear, gray-blue sky, she heard a sound without, and, looking
+down, saw a convoy of horses pass, laden with bales and kegs, and
+followed or accompanied by men wearing slouched hats. So little noise
+did the beasts make in traversing the road, that Judith was convinced
+their hoofs must be muffled in felt. She had heard that this was done
+by the smugglers. It was said that all Coppinger's horses had their
+boots drawn on when engaged in conveying run goods from the place
+where stored to their destination.
+
+These were Coppinger's men, this his convoy, doubtless. Judith thrust
+the letter from her. He was a bad man, a very bad man; and if he had
+met with an accident, it was his due, a judgment on his sins. She rose
+from her knees, turned away, and went back to her bed.
+
+Next day, after a morning spent at the rectory, in the hopes that her
+aunt might arrive and obviate the need of her going in quest of her,
+Judith, disappointed in this hope, prepared to walk to Pentyre. Mrs.
+Dionysia had not acted with kindness toward her. Judith felt this,
+without allowing herself to give to the feeling articulate expression.
+She made what excuses she could for Aunt Dunes: she was hindered by
+duties that had crowded upon her, she had been forbidden going by
+Captain Cruel; but none of these excuses satisfied Judith.
+
+Judith must go herself to the Glaze, and she had reasons of her own
+for wishing to see her aunt, independent of the sense of obligation on
+her, more or less acknowledged, that she must obey the summons of
+C. C. There were matters connected with the rectory, with the
+furniture there, the cow, and the china, that Mrs. Trevisa must give
+her judgment upon. There were bills that had come in, which Mrs.
+Trevisa must pay, as Judith had been left without any money in her
+pocket.
+
+As the girl walked through the lanes she turned over in her mind the
+stories she had heard of the smuggler Captain, the wild tales of his
+wrecking ships, of his contests with the Preventive men, and the
+ghastly tragedy of Wyvill, who had been washed up headless on Doombar.
+In former days she had accepted all these stories as true, had not
+thought of questioning them; but now that she had looked Coppinger in
+the face, had spoken with him, experienced his consideration, she
+could not believe that they were to be accepted without question. That
+story of Wyvill--that Captain Cruel had hacked off his head on the
+gunwale with his axe--seemed to her now utterly incredible. But if
+true! She shuddered to think that her hand had been held in that
+stained with so hideous a crime.
+
+Thus musing, Judith arrived at Pentyre Glaze, and entering the porch,
+turned from the sea, knocked at the door.
+
+A loud voice bade her enter. She knew that the voice proceeded from
+Coppinger, and her heart fluttered with fear and uncertainty. She
+halted, with her hand on the door, inclined to retreat without
+entering; but again the voice summoned her to come in, and gathering
+up her courage she opened the door, and, still holding the latch,
+took a few steps forward into the hall or kitchen, into which it
+opened.
+
+A fire was smouldering in the great open fireplace, and beside it, in
+a carved oak arm-chair, sat Cruel Coppinger, with a small table at his
+side, on which were a bottle and glass, a canister of tobacco and a
+pipe. His arm was strapped across his breast as she had seen it a few
+days before. Entering from the brilliant light of day, Judith could
+not at first observe his face, but, as her eyes became accustomed to
+the twilight of the smoke-blackened and gloomy hall, she saw that he
+looked more worn and pale than he had seemed the day after the
+accident. Nor could she understand the expression on his countenance
+when he was aware who was his visitor.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Judith; "I am sorry to have intruded; but I
+wished to speak to my aunt."
+
+"Your aunt? Old mother Dunes? Come in. Let go your hold of the door
+and shut it. Your aunt started a quarter of an hour ago for the
+rectory."
+
+"And I came along the lane from Polzeath."
+
+"Then no wonder you did not meet her. She went by the church path, of
+course, and over the down."
+
+"I am sorry to have missed her. Thank you, Captain Coppinger, for
+telling me."
+
+"Stay!" he roared, as he observed her draw back into the porch. "You
+are not going yet!"
+
+"I cannot stay for more than a moment in which to ask how you do, and
+whether you are somewhat better? I was sorry to hear you had been
+worse."
+
+"I have been worse, yes. Come in. You shall not go. I am mewed in as a
+prisoner, and have none to speak to, and no one to look at but old
+Dunes. Come in, and take that stool by the fire, and let me hear you
+speak, and let me rest my eyes a while on your golden hair--gold more
+golden than that of the Indies."
+
+"I hope you are better, sir," said Judith, ignoring the compliment.
+
+"I am better now I have seen you. I shall be worse if you do not come
+in."
+
+She refused to do this by a light shake of the head.
+
+"I suppose you are afraid. We are wild and lawless men here, ogres
+that eat children! Come, child, I have something to show you."
+
+"Thank you for your kindness; but I must run to the parsonage; I
+really _must_ see my aunt."
+
+"Then I will send her to Polzeath to you when she returns. She will
+keep; she's stale enough."
+
+"I would spare her the trouble."
+
+"Pshaw! She shall do what I will. Now see--I am wearied to death with
+solitude and sickness. Come, amuse yourself, if you will, with
+insulting me--calling me what you like; I do not mind, so long as you
+remain."
+
+"I have no desire whatever, Captain Coppinger, to insult you and call
+you names."
+
+"You insult me by standing there holding the latch--standing on one
+foot, as if afraid to sully the soles by treading my tainted floor. Is
+it not an insult that you refuse to come in? Is it not so much as
+saying to me, 'You are false, cruel, not to be trusted; you are not
+worthy that I should be under the same roof with you, and breathe the
+same air?'"
+
+"Oh, Captain Coppinger, I do not mean that!"
+
+"Then let go the latch and come in. Stand, if you will not sit,
+opposite me. How can I see you there, in the doorway?"
+
+"There is not much to see when I am visible," said Judith, laughing.
+
+"Oh, no! not much! Only a little creature who has more daring than any
+man in Cornwall--who will stand up to, and cast at her feet, Cruel
+Coppinger, at whose name men tremble."
+
+Judith let go her hold on the door, and moved timidly into the hall;
+but she let the door remain half open that the light and air flowed
+in.
+
+"And now," said Captain Coppinger, "here is a key on this table by me.
+Do you see a small door by the clock-case? Unlock that door with the
+key."
+
+"You want something from thence!"
+
+"I want you to unlock the door. There are beautiful and costly things
+within that you shall see."
+
+"Thank you; but I would rather look at them some other day, when my
+aunt is here, and I have more time."
+
+"Will you refuse me even the pleasure of letting you see what is
+there?"
+
+"If you particularly desire it, Captain Coppinger, I will peep in--but
+only peep."
+
+She took the key from his table, and crossed the hall to the door.
+The lock was large and clumsy, but she turned the key by putting both
+hands to it. Then, swinging open the door, she looked inside. The door
+opened into an apartment crowded with a collection of sundry articles
+of value: bales of silk from Italy, Genoa laces, Spanish silver-inlaid
+weapons, Chinese porcelain, bronzes from Japan, gold and silver
+ornaments, bracelets, brooches, watches, inlaid mother-of-pearl
+cabinets--an amazing congeries of valuables heaped together.
+
+"Well, now!" shouted Cruel Coppinger. "What say you to the gay things
+there? Choose--take what you will. I care not for them one rush. What
+do you most admire, most covet? Put out both hands and take--take all
+you would have; fill your lap, carry off all you can. It is yours."
+
+Judith drew hastily back and relocked the door.
+
+"What have you taken?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Nothing? Take what you will; I give it freely."
+
+"I cannot take anything, though I thank you, Captain Coppinger, for
+your kind and generous offer."
+
+"You will accept nothing?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"That is like you. You do it to anger me. As you throw hard words at
+me--coward, wrecker, robber--and as you dash broken glass, buttons,
+buckles, in my face, so do you throw back my offers."
+
+"It is not through ingratitude--"
+
+"I care not through what it is! You seek to anger, and not to please
+me. Why will you take nothing? There are beautiful things there to
+charm a woman."
+
+"I am not a woman; I am a little girl."
+
+"Why do you refuse me!"
+
+"For one thing, because I want none of the things there, beautiful and
+costly though they be."
+
+"And for the other thing----?"
+
+"For the other thing--excuse my plain speaking--I do not think they
+have been honestly got."
+
+"By heavens!" shouted Coppinger. "There you attack and stab at me
+again. I like your plainness of speech. You do not spare me. I would
+not have you false and double like old Dunes."
+
+"Oh, Captain Coppinger! I give you thanks from the depths of my
+heart. It is kindly intended, and it is so good and noble of you, I
+feel that; for I have hurt you and reduced you to the state in which
+you now are, and yet you offer me the best things in your
+house--things of priceless value. I acknowledge your goodness; but
+just because I know I do not deserve this goodness I must decline what
+you offer."
+
+"Then come here and give me the key."
+
+She stepped lightly over the floor to him and handed him the great
+iron key to his store chamber. As she did so he caught her hand, bowed
+his dark head, and kissed her fingers.
+
+"Captain Coppinger!" She started back, trembling, and snatched her
+hand from him.
+
+"What! have I offended you again? Why not? A subject kisses the hand
+of his queen; and I am a subject, and you--you my queen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+JESSAMINE.
+
+
+"How are you, old man?"
+
+"Middlin', thanky'; and how be you, gov'nor?"
+
+"Middlin' also; and your missus?"
+
+"Only sadly. I fear she's goin' slow but sure the way of all flesh."
+
+"Bless us! 'Tis a trouble and expense them sort o' things. Now to
+work, shall we? What do you figure up?"
+
+"And you?"
+
+"Oh, well, I'm not here on reg'lar business. Huntin' on my own score
+to-day."
+
+"Oh, ay! Nice port this."
+
+"Best the old fellow had in his cellar. I told the executrix I should
+like the taste of it, and advise thereon."
+
+The valuers for dilapidations, vulgarly termed dilapidators, were met
+in the dining-room of the deserted parsonage. Mr. Scantlebray was on
+one side, Mr. Cargreen on the other. Mr. Scantlebray was on that of
+the "orphings," as he termed his clients, and Mr. Cargreen on that of
+the Rev. Mr. Mules, the recently nominated rector to S. Enodoc.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray was a tall, lean man, with light gray eyes, a red
+face, and legs and arms that he shook every now and then as though
+they were encumbrances to his trunk and he was going to shake them
+off, as a poodle issuing from a bath shakes the water out of his
+locks. Mr. Cargreen was a bullet-headed man, with a white neckcloth,
+gray whiskers, a solemn face, and a sort of perpetual "Let-us-pray"
+expression on his lips and in his eyes--a composing of his interior
+faculties and abstraction from worldly concerns.
+
+"I am here," said Mr. Scantlebray, "as adviser and friend--you
+understand, old man--of the orphings and their haunt."
+
+"And I," said Mr. Cargreen, "am ditto to the incoming rector."
+
+"And what do you get out of this visit!" asked Mr. Scantlebray, who
+was a frank man.
+
+"Only three guineas as a fee," said Mr. Cargreen. "And you?"
+
+"Ditto, old man--three guineas. You understand, I am not here as
+valuer to-day."
+
+"Nor I--only as adviser."
+
+"Exactly! Taste this port. 'Taint bad--out of the cellar of the old
+chap. Told auntie I must have it, to taste and give opinion on."
+
+"And what are you going to do to-day?"
+
+"I'm going to have one or two little things pulled down, and other
+little things put to rights."
+
+"Humph! I'm here to see nothing is pulled down."
+
+"We won't quarrel. There's the conservatory, and the linney in Willa
+Park."
+
+"I don't know," said Cargreen, shaking his head.
+
+"Now look here, old man," said Mr. Scantlebray. "You let me tear the
+linney down, and I'll let the conservatory stand."
+
+"The conservatory----"
+
+"I know; the casement of the best bedroom went through the roof of it.
+I'll mend the roof and repaint it. You can try the timber, and find it
+rotten, and lay on dilapidations enough to cover a new conservatory.
+Pass the linney; I want to make pickings out of that."
+
+It may perhaps be well to let the reader understand the exact
+situation of the two men engaged in sipping port. Directly it was
+known that a rector had been nominated to S. Enodoc, Mr. Cargreen, a
+Bodmin valuer, agent, and auctioneer, had written to the happy
+nominee, Mr. Mules, of Birmingham, inclosing his card in the letter,
+to state that he was a member of an old-established firm, enjoying the
+confidence, not to say the esteem of the principal county families in
+the north of Cornwall, that he was a sincere Churchman, that
+deploring, as a true son of the Church, the prevalence of Dissent, he
+felt it his duty to call the attention of the reverend gentleman to
+certain facts that concerned him, but especially the CHURCH, and facts
+that he himself, as a devoted son of the Church, on conviction, after
+mature study of its tenets, felt called upon, in the interest of that
+Church he so had at heart, to notice. He had heard, said Mr. Cargreen,
+that the outgoing parties from S. Enodoc were removing, or causing to
+be removed, or were proposing to remove, certain fixtures in the
+parsonage, and certain out-buildings, barns, tenements, sheds, and
+linneys on the glebe and parsonage premises, to the detriment of its
+value, inasmuch as that such removal would be prejudicial to the
+letting of the land, and render it impossible for the incoming rector
+to farm it himself without re-erecting the very buildings now in
+course of destruction, or which were purposed to be destroyed: to wit,
+certain out-buildings, barns, cattle-sheds, and linneys, together with
+other tenements that need not be specified. Mr. Cargreen added that,
+roughly speaking, the dilapidations of these buildings, if allowed to
+stand, might be assessed at £300; but that, if pulled down, it would
+cost the new rector about £700 to re-erect them, and their re-erection
+would be an imperative necessity. Mr. Cargreen had himself,
+personally, no interest in the matter; but, as a true son of the
+Church, etc., etc.
+
+By return of post Mr. Cargreen received an urgent request from the
+Rev. Mr. Mules to act as his agent, and to act with precipitation in
+the protection of his interests.
+
+In the meantime Mr. Scantlebray had not been neglectful of other
+people's interest. He had written to Miss Dionysia Trevisa to inform
+her that, though he did not enjoy a present acquaintance, it was the
+solace and joy of his heart to remember that some years ago, before
+that infelicitous marriage of Mr. Trevisa, which had led to Miss
+Dionysia's leaving the rectory, it had been his happiness to meet her
+at the house of a mutual acquaintance, Mrs. Scaddon, where he had
+respectfully, and, at this distance of time, he ventured to add,
+humbly and hopelessly admired her; that, as he was riding past the
+rectory he had chanced to observe the condition of dilapidation
+certain tenements, pig-sties, cattle-sheds, and other out-buildings
+were in, and that, though it in no way concerned him, yet, for auld
+lang syne's sake, and a desire to assist one whom he had always
+venerated, and, at this distance of time might add, had admired, he
+ventured to offer a suggestion: to wit, That a number of unnecessary
+out-buildings should be torn down and utterly effaced before a new
+rector was nominated, and had appointed a valuer; also that certain
+obvious repairs should be undertaken and done at once, so as to give
+to the parsonage the appearance of being in excellent order, and cut
+away all excuse for piling up dilapidations. Mr. Scantlebray ventured
+humbly to state that he had had a good deal of experience with those
+gentlemen who acted as valuers for dilapidations, and with pain he was
+obliged to add that a more unscrupulous set of men it had never been
+his bad fortune to come into contact with. He ventured to assert that,
+were he to tell all he knew, or only half of what he knew, as to their
+proceedings in valuing for dilapidations, he would make both of Miss
+Trevisa's ears tingle.
+
+At once Miss Dionysia entreated Mr. Scantlebray to superintend and
+carry out with expedition such repairs and such demolitions as he
+deemed expedient, so as to forestall the other party.
+
+"Chicken!" said Mr. Cargreen. "That's what I've brought for my lunch."
+
+"And 'am is what I've got," said Mr. Scantlebray. "They'll go lovely
+together." Then, in a loud tone--"Come in!"
+
+The door opened, and a carpenter entered with a piece of deal board in
+his hand.
+
+"You won't mind looking out of the winder, Mr. Cargreen?" said Mr.
+Scantlebray. "Some business that's partick'ler my own. You'll find the
+jessamine--the white jessamine--smells beautiful."
+
+Mr. Cargreen rose, and went to the dining-room window that was
+embowered in white jessamine, then in full flower and fragrance.
+
+"What is it, Davy?"
+
+"Well, sir, I ain't got no dry old board for the floor where it be
+rotten, nor for the panelling of the doors where broken through."
+
+"No board at all?"
+
+"No, sir--all is green. Only cut last winter."
+
+"Won't it take paint?"
+
+"Well, sir, not well. I've dried this piece by the kitchen fire, and I
+find it'll take the paint for a time."
+
+"Run, dry all the panels at the kitchen fire, and then paint 'em."
+
+"Thanky', sir; but, how about the boarding of the floor? The boards'll
+warp and start."
+
+"Look here, Davy, that gentleman who's at the winder a-smelling to
+the jessamine is the surveyor and valuer to t'other party. I fancy
+you'd best go round outside and have a word with him and coax him to
+pass the boards."
+
+"Come in!" in a loud voice. Then there entered a man in a cloth coat,
+with very bushy whiskers. "How d'y' do, Spargo? What do you want?"
+
+"Well, Mr. Scantlebray, I understand the linney and cow-shed is to be
+pulled down."
+
+"So it is, Spargo."
+
+"Well, sir!" Mr. Spargo drew his sleeve across his mouth. "There's a
+lot of very fine oak timber in it--beams, and such like--that I don't
+mind buying. As a timber merchant I could find a use for it."
+
+"Say ten pound."
+
+"Ten pun'! That's a long figure!"
+
+"Not a pound too much; but come--we'll say eight."
+
+"I reckon I'd thought five."
+
+"Five! pshaw! It's dirt cheap to _you_ at eight."
+
+"Why to me, sir?"
+
+"Why, because the new rector will want to rebuild both cattle-shed and
+linney, and he'll have to go to you for timber."
+
+"But suppose he don't, and cuts down some on the glebe?"
+
+"No, Spargo--not a bit. There at the winder, smelling to the
+jessamine, is the new rector's adviser and agent. Go round by the
+front door into the garding, and say a word to him--you understand,
+and--" Mr. Scantlebray tapped his palm. "Do now go round and have a
+sniff of the jessamine, Mr. Spargo, and I don't fancy Mr. Cargreen
+will advise the rector to use home-grown timber. He'll tell him it
+sleeps away, gets the rot, comes more expensive in the long run."
+
+The valuer took a wing of chicken and a little ham, and then shouted,
+with his mouth full--"Come in!"
+
+The door opened and admitted a farmer.
+
+"How do, Mr. Joshua? middlin'?"
+
+"Middlin', sir, thanky'."
+
+"And what have you come about, sir?"
+
+"Well--Mr. Scantlebray, sir! I fancy you ha'n't offered me quite
+enough for carting away of all the rummage from them buildings as is
+coming down. 'Tis a terrible lot of stone, and I'm to take 'em so far
+away."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, sir, it's such a lot of work for the bosses, and the pay so
+poor."
+
+"Not a morsel, Joshua--not a morsel."
+
+"Well, sir, I can't do it at the price."
+
+"Oh, Joshua! Joshua! I thought you'd a better eye to the future. Don't
+you see that the new rector will have to build up all these
+out-buildings again, and where else is he to get stone except out of
+your quarry, or some of the old stone you have carted away, which you
+will have the labor of carting back?"
+
+"Well, sir, I don't know."
+
+"But I do, Joshua."
+
+"The new rector might go elsewhere for stone."
+
+"Not he. Look there, at the winder is Mr. Cargreen, and he's in with
+the new parson, like a brother--knows his very soul. The new parson
+comes from Birmingham. What can he tell about building-stone here? Mr.
+Cargreen will tell him yours is the only stuff that ain't powder."
+
+"But, sir, he may not rebuild."
+
+"He must. Mr. Cargreen will tell him that he can't let the glebe
+without buildings; and he can't build without your quarry stone: and
+if he has your quarry stone--why, you will be given the carting also.
+Are you satisfied?"
+
+"Yes--if Mr. Cargreen would be sure----"
+
+"He's there at the winder, a-smelling to the jessamine. You go round
+and have a talk to him, and make him understand--you know. He's a
+little hard o' hearing; but the drum o' his ear is here," said
+Scantlebray, tapping his palm.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray was now left to himself to discuss the chicken
+wing--the liver wing he had taken--and sip the port; a conversation
+was going on in an undertone at the window; but that concerned Mr.
+Cargreen and not himself, so he paid no attention to it.
+
+After a while, however, when this hum ceased, he turned his head, and
+called out:
+
+"Old man! how about your lunch?"
+
+"I'm coming."
+
+"And you found the jessamine very sweet?"
+
+"Beautiful! beautiful!"
+
+"Taste this port. It is not what it should be: some the old fellow
+laid in when he could afford it--before he married. It is passed, and
+going back; should have been drunk five years ago."
+
+Mr. Cargreen came to the table, and seated himself. Then Mr.
+Scantlebray flapped his arms, shook out his legs, and settled himself
+to the enjoyment of the lunch, in the society of Mr. Cargreen.
+
+"The merry-thought! Pull with me, old man?"
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray and Mr. Cargreen were engaged on the merry-thought,
+each endeavoring to steal an advantage on the other, by working the
+fingers up the bone unduly, when the window was darkened.
+
+Without desisting from pulling at the merry-thought each turned his
+head, and Scantlebray at once let go his end of the bone. At the
+window stood Captain Coppinger looking in at the couple, with his
+elbow resting on the window-sill.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray flattered himself that he was on good terms with all
+the world, and he at once with hilarity saluted the Captain by raising
+the fingers greased by the bone to his brow.
+
+"Didn't reckon on seeing you here, Cap'n."
+
+"I suppose not."
+
+"Come and pick a bone with us?"
+
+Coppinger laughed a short snort through his nostrils.
+
+"I have a bone to pick with you already."
+
+"Never! no, never!"
+
+"You have forced yourself on Miss Trevisa to act as her agent and
+valuer in the matter of dilapidations."
+
+"Not forced, Captain. She asked me to give her friendly counsel. We
+are old acquaintances."
+
+"I will not waste words. Give me her letter. She no longer requires
+your advice and counsel. I am going to act for her."
+
+"You, Cap'n! Lor' bless me! You don't mean to say so!"
+
+"Yes. I will protect her against being pillaged. She is my
+housekeeper."
+
+"But see! she is only executrix. She gets nothing out of the
+property."
+
+"No--but her niece and nephew do. Take it that I act for them. Give me
+up her letter."
+
+Mr. Scantlebray hesitated.
+
+"But, Cap'n, I've been to vast expense. I've entered into
+agreements----"
+
+"With whom?"
+
+"With carpenter and mason about the repairs."
+
+"Give me the agreements."
+
+"Not agreements exactly. They sent me in their estimates, and I
+accepted them, and set them to work."
+
+"Give me the estimates."
+
+Mr. Scantlebray flapped all his limbs, and shook his head.
+
+"You don't suppose I carry these sort of things about with me?"
+
+"I have no doubt whatever they are in your pocket." Scantlebray
+fidgeted.
+
+"Cap'n, try this port--a little going back, but not to be sneezed at."
+
+Coppinger leaned forward through the window.
+
+"Who is that man with you?"
+
+"Mr. Cargreen."
+
+"What is he here for?"
+
+"I am agent for the Reverend Mules, the newly appointed rector," said
+Mr. Cargreen, with some dignity.
+
+"Then I request you both to step to the window to me."
+
+The two men looked at each other. Scantlebray jumped up, and Cargreen
+followed. They stood in the window-bay at a respectful distance from
+Cruel Coppinger.
+
+"I suppose you know who I am?" said the latter, fixing his eyes on
+Cargreen.
+
+"I believe I can form a guess."
+
+"And your duty to your client is to make out as bad a case as you can
+against the two children. They have had just one thousand pounds left
+them. You are going to get as much of that away from them as you are
+permitted."
+
+"My good sir--allow me to explain----"
+
+"There is no need," said Coppinger. "Suffice it that you are one side.
+I--Cruel Coppinger--on the other. Do you understand what that means?"
+
+Mr. Cargreen became alarmed, his face became very blank.
+
+"I am not a man to waste words. I am not a man that many in Cornwall
+would care to have as an adversary. Do you ever travel at night, Mr.
+Cargreen?"
+
+"Yes, sir, sometimes."
+
+"Through the lanes and along the lonely roads?"
+
+"Perhaps, sir--now and then."
+
+"So do I," said Coppinger. He drew a pistol from his pocket, and
+played with it. The two "dilapidators" shrank back. "So do I," said
+Coppinger; "but I never go unarmed. I would advise you to do the
+same--if you are my adversary."
+
+"I hope, Captain, that--that----"
+
+"If those children suffer through you more than what I allow"--Coppinger
+drew up his one shoulder that he could move--"I should advise you to
+consider what Mrs. Cargreen will have to live on when a widow." Then
+he turned to Scantlebray, who was sneaking behind the window-curtain.
+
+"Miss Trevisa's letter, authorizing you to act for her?"
+
+Scantlebray, with shaking hand, groped for his pocket-book.
+
+"And the two agreements or estimates you signed."
+
+Scantlebray gave him the letter.
+
+"The agreements also."
+
+Nervously the surveyor groped again, and reluctantly produced them.
+Captain Coppinger opened them with his available hand.
+
+"What is this? Five pounds in pencil added to each, and then summed up
+in the total? What is the meaning of that, pray?"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray again endeavored to disappear behind the curtain.
+
+"Come forward!" shouted Captain Cruel, striking the window-sill with
+the pistol.
+
+Scantlebray jumped out of his retreat at once.
+
+"What is the meaning of these two five pounds?"
+
+"Well, sir--Captain--it is usual; every one does it. It is my--what
+d'y' call it!--consideration for accepting the estimates."
+
+"And added to each, and then charged to the orphans, who pay you to
+act in their interest--so they pay wittingly, directly, and
+unwittingly, indirectly. Well for you and for Mrs. Scantlebray that I
+release you of your obligation to act for Mother Dunes--I mean Miss
+Trevisa."
+
+"Sir," said Cargreen, "under the circumstances, under intimidation, I
+decline to sully my fingers with the business. I shall withdraw."
+
+"No, you shall not," said Cruel Coppinger, resolutely. "You shall act,
+and act as I approve; and in the end it shall not be to your
+disadvantage."
+
+Then, without a word of farewell, he stood up, slipped the pistol back
+into his pocket, and strode away.
+
+Mr. Cargreen had become white, or rather, the color of dough. After a
+moment he recovered himself somewhat, and, turning to Scantlebray,
+with a sarcastic air, said--
+
+"I hope _you_ enjoy the jessamine. They don't smell particularly sweet
+to me."
+
+"Orful!" groaned Scantlebray. He shook himself--almost shaking off all
+his limbs in the convulsion--"Old man--them jessamines is orful!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE CAVE.
+
+
+Some weeks slipped by without bringing to Judith any accession of
+anxiety. She did not go again to Pentyre Glaze, but her aunt came once
+or twice in the week to Polzeath to see her. Moreover, Miss Dionysia's
+manner toward her was somewhat less contrary and vexatious, and she
+seemed to put on a conciliatory manner, as far as was possible for one
+so angular and crabbed. Gracious she could not be; nature had made it
+as impossible for her to be gracious in manner as to be lovely in face
+and graceful in movement.
+
+Moreover, Judith observed that her aunt looked at her with an
+expression of perplexity, as though seeking in her to find an answer
+to a riddle that vexed her brain. And so it was. Aunt Dunes could not
+understand the conduct of Coppinger toward Judith and her brother. Nor
+could she understand how a child like her niece could have faced and
+defied a man of whom she herself stood in abject fear. Judith had
+behaved to the smuggler in a way that no man in the whole countryside
+would have ventured to behave. She had thrown him at her feet, half
+killed him, and yet Cruel Coppinger did not resent what had been done;
+on the contrary, he went out of his way to interfere in the interest
+of the orphans. He was not the man to concern himself in other
+people's affairs; why should he take trouble on behalf of Judith and
+her brother? That he did it out of consideration for herself, Miss
+Trevisa had not the assurance to believe.
+
+Aunt Dunes put a few searching questions to Judith, but drew from her
+nothing that explained the mystery. The girl frankly told her of her
+visit to the Glaze and interview with the crippled smuggler, of his
+offer to her of some of his spoil, and of her refusal to receive a
+present from him. Miss Trevisa approved of her niece's conduct in this
+respect. It would not have befitted her to accept anything. Judith,
+however, did not communicate to her aunt the closing scene in that
+interview. She did not tell her that Coppinger had kissed her hand,
+nor his excuse for having done so, that he was offering homage to a
+queen.
+
+For one thing, Judith did not attach any importance to this incident.
+She had always heard that Coppinger was a wild and insolent man, wild
+and insolent in his dealings with his fellow-men, therefore doubtless
+still more so in his treatment of defenceless women. He had behaved to
+her in the rude manner in which he would behave to any peasant girl or
+sailor's daughter who caught his fancy, and she resented his act as an
+indignity, and his excuse for it as a prevarication. And, precisely,
+because he had offended her maidenly dignity, she blushed to mention
+it, even to her aunt, resolving in her own mind not to subject herself
+to the like again.
+
+Miss Trevisa, on several occasions, invited Judith to come and see her
+at Pentyre Glaze, but the girl always declined the invitation.
+
+Judith's estimate of Cruel Coppinger was modified. He could not be the
+utter reprobate she had always held him to be. She fully acknowledged
+that there was an element of good in the man, otherwise he would not
+have forgiven the injury done him, nor would he have interfered to
+protect her and Jamie from the fraud and extortion of the
+"dilapidators." She trusted that the stories she had heard of
+Coppinger's wild and savage acts were false, or overcolored. Her dear
+father had been misled by reports, as she had been, and it was
+possible that Coppinger had not really been the impediment in her
+father's way that the late rector had supposed.
+
+Jamie was happy. He was even, in a fashion, making himself useful. He
+helped Mr. Menaida in his bird-stuffing on rainy days; he did more, he
+ran about the cliffs, learned the haunts of the wild-fowl, ascertained
+where they nested, made friends with Preventive men, and some of those
+fellows living on shore, without any very fixed business, who rambled
+over the country with their guns, and from these he was able to obtain
+birds that he believed Mr. Menaida wanted. Judith was glad that the
+boy should be content, and enjoy the fresh air and some freedom. She
+would have been less pleased had she seen the companions Jamie made.
+But the men had rough good-humor, and were willing to oblige the
+half-witted boy, and they encouraged him to go with them shooting, or
+to sit with them in their huts.
+
+Jamie manifested so strong a distaste for books, and lesson time being
+one of resistance, pouting, tears, and failures, that Judith thought
+it not amiss to put off the resumption of these irksome tasks for a
+little while, and to let the boy have his run of holidays. She fancied
+that the loss of his father and of his old home preyed on him more
+than was actually the case; and believed that by giving him freedom
+till the first pangs were over, he might not suffer in the way that
+she had done.
+
+For a fortnight or three weeks Judith's time had been so fully engaged
+at the parsonage, that she could not have devoted much of it to Jamie,
+even had she thought it desirable to keep him to his lessons; nor
+could she be with him much. She did not press him to accompany her to
+the rectory, there to spend the time that she was engaged sorting her
+father's letters and memoranda, his account-books and collection of
+extracts made from volumes he had borrowed, as not only would it be
+tedious to him, but he would distract her mind. She must see that he
+was amused, and must also provide that he was not at mischief. She did
+take him with her on one or two occasions, and found that he had
+occupied himself in disarranging much that she had put together for
+the sale.
+
+But she would not allow him wholly to get out of the way of looking to
+her as his companion, and she abandoned an afternoon to him now and
+then, as her work became less arduous, to walk with him on the cliffs
+or in the lanes, to listen to his childish prattle, and throw herself
+into his new pursuits. The link between them must not be allowed to
+become relaxed, and, so far as in her lay, she did her utmost to
+maintain it in its former security. But, with his father's death, and
+his removal to Mr. Menaida's cottage, a new world had opened to Jamie;
+he was brought into association with men and boys whom he had hardly
+known by sight previously, and without any wish to disengage himself
+from his sister's authority, he was led to look to others as comrades,
+and to listen to and follow their promptings.
+
+"Come, Jamie," said Judith, one day. "Now I really have some hours
+free, and I will go a stroll with you on the downs."
+
+The boy jumped with pleasure, and caught her hand.
+
+"I may take Tib with me?"
+
+"Oh yes, certainly, dear."
+
+Tib was a puppy that had been given to Jamie by one of his new
+acquaintances.
+
+The day was fresh. Clouds driving before the wind, now obscuring the
+sun and threatening rain, then clearing and allowing the sun to turn
+the sea green and gild the land. Owing to the breeze the sea was
+ruffled and strewn with breakers shaking their white foam.
+
+"I am going to show you something I have found, Ju," said the boy.
+"You will follow, will you not?"
+
+"Lead the way. What is it?"
+
+"Come and see. I found it by myself. I shan't tell any one but you."
+
+He conducted his sister down the cliffs to the beach of a cove. Judith
+halted a moment to look along the coast with its mighty, sombre
+cliffs, and the sea glancing with sun or dulled by shadow to Tintagel
+Head standing up at the extreme point to the northeast, with the white
+surf lashing and heaving around it. Then she drew her skirts together,
+and descended by the narrow path along which, with the lightness and
+confidence of a kid, Jamie was skipping.
+
+"Jamie!" she said. "Have you seen?--there is a ship standing in the
+offing."
+
+"Yes; she has been there all the morning."
+
+Then she went further.
+
+The cove was small, with precipitous cliffs rising from the sand to
+the height of two to three hundred feet. The seagulls screamed and
+flashed to and fro, and the waves foamed and threw up their waters
+lashed into froth as white and light as the feathers on the gulls. In
+the concave bay the roar of the plunging tide reverberated from every
+side. Neither the voice of Jamie, when he shouted to his sister from
+some feet below, nor the barking of his little dog that ran with him,
+could be distinguished by her.
+
+The descent was rapid and rugged, yet not so precipitous but that it
+could be gone over by asses or mules. Evidence that these creatures
+had passed that way remained in the impression of their hoofs in the
+soil, wherever a soft stratum intervened between the harder shelves of
+the rock, and had crumbled on the path into clay.
+
+Judith observed that several paths--not all mule-paths--converged
+lower down at intervals in the way by which she descended, so that it
+would be possible, apparently, to reach the sand from various points
+in the down, as well as by the main track by which she was stepping to
+the beach.
+
+"Jamie!" called Judith, as she stood on the last shoulder of rock
+before reaching the beach over a wave-washed and smoothed surface.
+"Jamie! I can see that same ship from here."
+
+But her brother could not hear her. He was throwing stones for the dog
+to run after, and meet a wave as it rushed in.
+
+The tide was going out: it had marked its highest elevation by a bow
+of foam and strips of dark seaweed and broken shells. Judith stepped
+along this line, and picked out the largest ribbon of weed she could
+find. She would hang it in her bedroom to tell her the weather. The
+piece that had been wont to act as barometer was old, and, besides, it
+had been lost in the recent shift and confusion.
+
+Jamie came up to her.
+
+"Now, Ju, mind and watch me, or you will lose me altogether."
+
+Then he ran forward, with Tib dancing and yelping round him. Presently
+he scrambled up a shelf of rock inclined from the sea, and up after
+him, yelping, scrambled Tib. In a moment both disappeared over the
+crest.
+
+Judith went up to the ridge and called to her brother.
+
+"I cannot climb this, Jamie."
+
+But in another moment, a hundred yards to her right, round the
+extremity of the reef, came Tib and his master, the boy dancing and
+laughing, the dog ducking his head, shaking his ears, and, all but
+laughing also, evidently enjoying the fun as much as Jamie.
+
+"This way, Ju!" shouted the boy, and signed to his sister. She could
+not hear his voice, but obeyed his gestures. The reef ran athwart the
+top of the bay, like the dorsal, jagged ridge of a crocodile half
+buried in the sand.
+
+Judith drew her skirts higher and closer, as the sand was wet, and
+there were pools by the rock. Then, holding her ribbon of seaweed by
+the harsh, knotted root, torn up along with the leaf, and trailing it
+behind her, she followed her brother, reached the end of the rock,
+turned and went in the traces of Jamie and Tib in the sand parallel to
+her former course.
+
+Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, on the right hand there opened
+before her, in the face of the cliff, a cave, the entrance to which
+was completely masked by the ridge she had turned. Into this cave went
+Jamie with his dog.
+
+"I am not obliged to follow you there!" protested Judith; but he made
+such vehement signs to her to follow him that she good-humoredly
+obeyed.
+
+The cave ran in a long way, at first at no great incline, then it
+became low overhead, and immediately after the floor inclined rapidly
+upward, and the vault took a like direction. Moreover, light appeared
+in front. Here, to Judith's surprise, she saw a large boat, painted
+gray, furnished with oars and boat-hook. She was attached by a chain
+to a staple in the rock. Judith examined her with a little uneasiness.
+No name was on her.
+
+The sides of the cave at this point formed shelves, not altogether
+natural, and that these were made use of was evident, because on them
+lay staves of broken casks, a four-flanged boat-anchor, and some oars.
+Out of the main trunk cave branched another that was quite dark, and
+smaller; in this, Judith, whose eyes were becoming accustomed to the
+twilight, thought she saw the bows of a smaller boat, also painted
+gray.
+
+"Jamie!" said Judith, now in serious alarm; "we ought not to be here.
+It is not safe. Do--do come away at once."
+
+"Why, what is there to harm us?"
+
+"My dear, do come away." She turned to retrace her steps, but Jamie
+stopped her.
+
+"Not that way, Ju! I have another by which to get out. Follow me
+still."
+
+He led the way up the steep rubble slope, and the light fell fuller
+from above. The cave was one of those into which when the sea rolls
+and chokes the entrance, the compressed air is driven out by a second
+orifice.
+
+They reached a sort of well or shaft, at the bottom of which they
+stood, but it did not open vertically but bent over somewhat, so that
+from below the sky could not be seen, though the light entered. A
+narrow path was traced in the side, and up this Jamie and the dog
+scrambled, followed by Judith, who was most anxious to escape from a
+place which she had no doubt was one of the shelter caves of the
+smugglers--perhaps of Cruel Coppinger, whose house was not a mile
+distant.
+
+The ascent was steep, the path slippery in places, and therefore
+dangerous. Jamie made nothing of it, nor did the little dog, but
+Judith picked her way with care; she had a good steady head, and did
+not feel giddy, but she was not sure that her feet might not slide in
+the clay where wet with water that dripped from the sides. As she
+neared the entrance she saw that hartstongue and maidenhair fern had
+rooted themselves in the sheltered nooks of this tunnel.
+
+After a climb of a hundred feet she came out on a ledge in the face of
+the cliff above the bay, to see, with a gasp of dismay, her brother in
+the hand of Cruel Coppinger, the boy paralyzed with fear so that he
+could neither stir nor cry out.
+
+"What!" exclaimed the Captain, "you here?" as he saw Judith stand
+before him.
+
+The puppy was barking and snapping at his boots. Coppinger let go
+Jamie, stooped and caught the dog by the neck. "Look at me," said the
+smuggler sternly, addressing the frightened boy. Then he swung the dog
+above his head and dashed it down the cliffs; it caught, then rolled,
+and fell out of sight--certainly with the life beaten out of it.
+
+"This will be done to you," said he; "I do not say that I would do it.
+She"--he waved his hand toward Judith--"stands between us. But if any
+of the fifteen to twenty men who know this place and come here should
+chance to meet you as I have met you, he would treat you without
+compunction as I have treated that dog. And if he were to catch you
+below--you have heard of Wyvill, the Preventive man?--you would fare
+as did he. Thank your sister that you are alive now. Go on--that
+way--up the cliff." He pointed with a telescope he held.
+
+Jamie fled up the steep path like the wind.
+
+"Judith," said Coppinger, "will you stand surety that he does not tell
+tales?"
+
+"I do not believe he will say anything."
+
+"I do not ask you to be silent. I know you will not speak. But if you
+mistrust his power to hold his tongue, send him away--send him out of
+the country--as you love him."
+
+"He shall never come here again," said Judith, earnestly.
+
+"That is well; he owes his life to you."
+
+Judith noticed that Cruel Coppinger's left arm was no more in a sling,
+nor in bands.
+
+He saw that she observed this, and smiled grimly. "I have my freedom
+with this arm once more--for the first time to-day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+IN THE DUSK.
+
+
+"Kicking along, Mr. Menaida, old man?" asked Mr. Scantlebray, in his
+loud, harsh voice, as he shook himself inside the door of Uncle
+Zachie's workshop. "And the little 'uns? Late in life to become nurse
+and keep the bottle and pap-bowl going, eh, old man? How's the
+orphings? Eating their own weight of victuals at twopence-ha'penny a
+head, eh? My experience of orphings isn't such as would make a man
+hilarious, and feel that he was filling his pockets."
+
+"Sit you down, sir; you'll find a chair. Not that one, there's a dab
+of arsenical paste got on to that. Sit you down, sir, over against me.
+Glad to see you and have some one to talk to. Here am I slaving all
+day, worn to fiddlestrings. There's Squire Rashleigh, of Menabilly,
+must have a glaucous gull stuffed at once that he has shot; and
+there's Sir John St. Aubyn, of Clowance, must have a case of
+kittiwakes by a certain day; and an institution in London wants a
+genuine specimen of a Cornish chough. Do they think I'm a tradesman to
+be ordered about? That I've not an income of my own, and that I am
+dependent on my customers? I'll do no more. I'll smoke and play the
+piano. I've no time to exchange a word with any one. Come, sit down.
+What's the news?"
+
+"It's a bad world," said Mr. Scantlebray, setting himself into a
+chair. "That's to say, the world is well enough if it warn't for there
+being too many rascals in it. I consider it's a duty on all
+right-thinking men to clear them off."
+
+"Well, the world would be better if we had the making of it,"
+acquiesced Mr. Menaida. "Bless you! I've no time for anything. I like
+to do a bit of bird-stuffing just as a sort of relaxation after
+smoking, but to be forced to work more than one cares--I won't do it!
+Besides, it is not wholesome. I shall be poisoned with arsenic. I must
+have some antidote. So will you, sir--eh? A drop of real first-rate
+cognac?"
+
+"Thank you, sir--old man--I don't mind dipping a feather and drawing
+it across my lips."
+
+Jamie had been so frightened by the encounter with Cruel Coppinger
+that he was thoroughly upset. He was a timid, nervous child, and
+Judith had persuaded him to go to bed. She sat by him, holding his
+hand, comforting him as best she might, when he sobbed over the loss
+of his pup, and cheering him when he clung to her in terror at the
+reminiscence of the threats of the Captain to deal with him as he had
+with Tib. Judith was under no apprehension of his revisiting the cave;
+he had been too thoroughly frightened ever to venture there again. She
+said nothing to impress this on him; all her efforts were directed
+toward allaying his alarms.
+
+Just as she hoped that he was dropping off into unconsciousness, he
+suddenly opened his eyes, and said, "Ju."
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"I've lost the chain."
+
+"What chain, my pretty?"
+
+"Tib's chain."
+
+The pup had been a trouble when Jamie went with the creature through
+the village or through a farm-yard. He would run after and nip the
+throats of chickens. Tib and his master had got into trouble on this
+account; accordingly Judith had turned out a light steel chain,
+somewhat rusty, and a dog collar from among the sundries that
+encumbered the drawers and closets of the rectory. This she had given
+to her brother, and whenever the little dog was near civilization he
+was obliged to submit to the chain.
+
+Judith, to console Jamie for his loss, had told him that in all
+probability another little dog might be procured to be his companion.
+Alas! the collar was on poor Tib, but she represented to him that if
+another dog were obtained it would be possible to buy or beg a collar
+for him, supposing a collar to be needful. This had satisfied Jamie,
+and he was about to doze off, when suddenly he woke to say that the
+chain was lost.
+
+"Where did you lose the chain, Jamie?"
+
+"I threw it down."
+
+"Why did you do that?"
+
+"I thought I shouldn't want it when Tib was gone."
+
+"And where did you throw it? Perhaps it may be found again."
+
+"I won't go and look for it--indeed I won't." He shivered and clung to
+his sister.
+
+"Where was it? Perhaps I can find it."
+
+"I dropped it at the top--on the down when I came up the steps
+from--from that man, when he had killed Tib."
+
+"You did not throw it over the cliff?"
+
+"No--I threw it down. I did not think I wanted it any more."
+
+"I dare say it may be found. I will go and see."
+
+"No--no! Don't, Ju. You might meet that man."
+
+Judith smiled. She felt that she was not afraid of that man--he would
+not hurt her.
+
+As soon as the boy was asleep, Judith descended the stairs, leaving
+the door ajar, that she might hear should he wake in a fright, and
+entering the little sitting-room, took up her needles and wool, and
+seated herself quietly by the window, where the last glimmer of
+twilight shone, to continue her work at a jersey she was knitting for
+Jamie's use in the winter.
+
+The atmosphere was charged with tobacco-smoke, almost as much as that
+of the adjoining workshop. There was no door between the rooms; none
+had been needed formerly, and Mr. Menaida did not think of supplying
+one now. It was questionable whether one would have been an advantage,
+as Jamie ran to and fro, and would be certain either to leave the door
+open or to slam it, should one be erected. Moreover, a door meant
+payment to a carpenter for timber and labor. There was no carpenter in
+the village, and Mr. Menaida spent no more money than he was
+absolutely obliged to spend, and how could he on an annuity of fifty
+pounds.
+
+Judith dropped her woolwork in her lap and fell into meditation. She
+reviewed what had just taken place: she saw before her again
+Coppinger, strongly built, with his dark face, and eyes that glared
+into the soul to its lowest depths, illumining all, not as the sun,
+but as the lightning, and suffering not a thought, not a feeling to
+remain obscure.
+
+A second time had Jamie done what angered him, but on this occasion
+he had curbed his passion and had contented himself with a
+threat--nay, not even that--with a caution. He had expressly told
+Jamie, that he himself would not hurt him, but that he ran into danger
+from others.
+
+She was again looking at Coppinger as he spoke; she saw the changes in
+his face, the alterations of expression in his eyes, in his
+intonation. She recalled the stern, menacing tone in which he had
+spoken to Jamie, and then the inflexion of voice as he referred to
+her. A dim surmise--a surmise she was ashamed to allow could be
+true--rose in her mind and thrilled her with alarm. Was it possible
+that he _liked_ her--liked--she could, she would give even in thought
+no other term to describe that feeling which she feared might possibly
+have sprung up in his breast. That he liked her--after all she had
+done? Was that why he had come to the cottage the day after his
+accident? Was that what had prompted the strange note sent to her
+along with the keg of spirits to Uncle Zachie? Was that the meaning of
+the offer of the choice of all his treasures?--of the vehemence with
+which he had seized her hand and had kissed it? Was that the
+interpretation of those words of excuse in which he had declared her
+his queen? If this were so, then much that had been enigmatical in his
+conduct was explained--his interference with the valuers for
+dilapidations, the strange manner in which he came across her path
+almost whenever she went to the rectory. And this was the
+signification of the glow in his eyes, the quaver in his voice, when
+he addressed her.
+
+Was it so?--could it be so?--that he liked her?--he--Cruel
+Coppinger--_Cruel_ Coppinger--the terror of the country round--liked
+_her_, the weakest creature that could be found?
+
+The thought of such a possibility frightened her. That the wild
+smuggler-captain should hate her she could have borne with better than
+that he should like her. That she was conscious of a sense of pleased
+surprise, intermixed with fear, was inevitable, for Judith was a
+woman, and there was something calculated to gratify feminine pride in
+the presumption that the most lawless and headstrong man on the
+Cornish coast should have meant what he said when he declared himself
+her subject.
+
+These thoughts, flushing and paling her cheek, quickening and staying
+her pulse, so engrossed Judith that, though she heard the voices in
+the adjoining apartment, she paid no heed to what was said.
+
+The wind, which had been fresh all day, was blowing stronger. It
+battered at the window where Judith sat, as though a hand struck and
+brushed over the panes.
+
+"Hot or cold?" asked Uncle Zachie.
+
+"Thanky', neither. Water can be got everywhere, but such brandy as
+this, old man--only here."
+
+"You are good to say so. It is Coppinger's present to me."
+
+"Coppinger!--his very good health, and may he lie in clover to-morrow
+night. He's had one arm bound, I've seen; perhaps he may have two
+before the night grows much older."
+
+Mr. Menaida raised his brows.
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"I daresay not," said Scantlebray. "It's the duty of all right-minded
+men to clear the world of rascals. I will do my duty, please the pigs.
+Would you mind--just another drop?"
+
+After his glass had been refilled, Mr. Scantlebray leaned back in his
+chair and said:
+
+"It's a wicked world, and, between you and me and the sugar dissolving
+at the bottom of my glass, you won't find more rascality anywhere than
+in my profession, and one of the biggest rascals in it is Mr.
+Cargreen. He's on the side against the orphings. If you've the faculty
+of pity in you, pity them--first, because they've him agin' 'em, and,
+secondly, because they've lost me as their protector. You know whom
+they got in place of me? I wish them joy of him. But they won't have
+his wing over them long, I can tell you."
+
+"You think not?"
+
+"Sure of it."
+
+"You think he'll throw it up?"
+
+"I rather suspect he won't be at liberty to attend to it. He'll want
+his full attention to his own consarns."
+
+Mr. Scantlebray tipped off his glass.
+
+"It's going to be a dirty night," said he. "You won't mind my spending
+an hour or two with you, will you?"
+
+"I shall be delighted. Have you any business in the place?"
+
+"Business--no. A little pleasure, maybe." After a pause, he said,
+"But, old man, I don't mind telling you what it is. You are mum, I
+know. It is this--the trap will shut to-night. Snap it goes, and the
+rats are fast. You haven't been out on the cliffs to-day, have you?"
+
+"No--bless me!--no, I have not."
+
+"The Black Prince is in the offing."
+
+"The Black Prince?"
+
+"Ay, and she will run her cargo ashore to-night. Now, I'm one who
+knows a little more than most. I'm one o' your straightfor'ard 'uns,
+always ready to give a neighbor a lift in my buggy, and a helping hand
+to the man that is down, and a frank, outspoken fellow am I to every
+one I meet--so that, knocking about as I do, I come to know and to
+hear more than do most, and I happen to have learnt into what cove the
+Black Prince will run her goods. I've a bone to pick with Captain
+Cruel, so I've let the Preventive men have the contents of my
+information-pottle, and they will be ready to-night for Coppinger and
+the whole party of them. The cutter will slip in between them and the
+sea, and a party will be prepared to give them the kindliest welcome
+by land. That is the long and short of it--and, old man, I shall
+dearly love to be there and see the sport. That is why I wish to be
+with you for an hour or two. Will you come as well?"
+
+"Bless me!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "not I! You don't suppose Coppinger
+and his men will allow themselves to be taken easily? There'll be a
+fight."
+
+"And pistols go off," said Scantlebray. "I shall not be surprised or
+sorry if Captain Cruel be washed up one of these next tides with a
+bullet through his head. Ebenezer Wyvill is one of the guards, and he
+has his brother's death to avenge."
+
+"Do you really believe that Coppinger killed him?"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray shrugged his shoulders. "It don't matter much what _I_
+think, to-night, but what the impression is that Ebenezer Wyvill
+carries about with him. I imagine that if Ebenezer comes across the
+Captain he won't speak to him by word of mouth, nor trouble himself to
+feel for a pair of handcuffs. So--fill my glass again, old man, and
+we'll drink to a cold bed and an indigestible lump--somewhere--in his
+head or in his gizzard--to Cruel Coppinger, and the wiping off of old
+scores--always a satisfaction to honest men." Scantlebray rubbed his
+hands. "It is a satisfaction to the conscience--to ferret out the rats
+sometimes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+WARNING OF DANGER.
+
+
+Judith, lost for awhile in her dreams, had been brought to a sense of
+what was the subject of conversation in the adjoining room by the
+mention of Coppinger's name more than once. She heard the desultory
+talk for awhile without giving it much attention, but Scantlebray's
+voice was of that harsh and penetrating nature that to exclude it the
+ears must be treated as Ulysses treated the ears of his mariners as he
+passed the rock of the Sirens.
+
+Presently she became alive to the danger in which Coppinger stood.
+Scantlebray spoke plainly, and she understood. There could be no doubt
+about it. The Black Prince belonged to the Captain, and his dealings
+with and through that vessel were betrayed. Not only was Coppinger, as
+the head of a gang of smugglers, an object worth capture to the
+Preventive men, but the belief that he had caused the death of at
+least one of their number had embittered them against him to such an
+extent that, when the opportunity presented itself to them of
+capturing him red-handed engaged in his smuggling transactions, they
+were certain to deal with him in a way much more summary than the
+processes of a court of a justice. The brother of the man who had been
+murdered was among the coast-guard, and he would not willingly let
+slip a chance of avenging the death of Jonas Wyvill. Coppinger was not
+in a condition to defend himself effectively. On that day for the
+first time, had he left off his bandages, and his muscles were stiff
+and the newly set bones still weak.
+
+What was to be done? Could Judith go to bed and let Coppinger run into
+the net prepared for his feet--go to his death?
+
+No sooner, however, had Judith realized the danger that menaced
+Coppinger than she resolved on doing her utmost to avert it. She, and
+she alone, could deliver him from the disgrace, if not the death, that
+menaced him.
+
+She stole lightly from the room and got her cloak, drew the hood over
+her head, and sallied forth into the night. Heavy clouds rolled over
+the sky, driven before a strong gale. Now and then they opened and
+disclosed the twilight sky, in which faintly twinkled a few stars, and
+at such times a dim light fell over the road, but in another moment
+lumbering masses of vapor were carried forward, blotting out the clear
+tract of sky, and at the same time blurring all objects on earth with
+one enveloping shadow.
+
+Judith's heart beat furiously, and timidity came over her spirit as
+she left the cottage, for she was unaccustomed to be outside the house
+at such an hour; but the purpose she had before her eyes gave her
+strength and courage. It seemed to her that Providence had suddenly
+constituted her the guardian angel of Coppinger, and she flattered
+herself that, were she to be the means of delivering him from the
+threatened danger, she might try to exact of him a promise to
+discontinue so dangerous and so questionable a business. If this night
+she were able to give him warning in time, it would be some return
+made for his kindness to her, and some reparation made for the injury
+she had done him. When for an instant there was a rift in the clouds,
+and she could look up and see the pure stars, it seemed to her that
+they shone down on her like angels' eyes, watching, encouraging, and
+promising her protection. She thought of her father--of how his mind
+had been set against Coppinger; now, she felt convinced, he saw that
+his judgment had been warped, and that he would bless her for doing
+that which she had set her mind to accomplish. Her father had been
+ever ready frankly to acknowledge himself in the wrong when he had
+been convinced that he was mistaken, and now in the light of eternity,
+with eyes undarkened by prejudice, he must know that he was in error
+in his condemnation of Coppinger, and be glad that his daughter was
+doing something to save that man from an untimely and bloody death.
+
+Not a soul did Judith meet or pass on her way. She had determined in
+the first case to go to Pentyre Glaze. She would see if Captain Cruel
+were there. She trusted he was at his house. If so, her course was
+simple; she would warn him and return to Mr. Menaida's cottage as
+quickly as her feet would bear her. The wind caught her cloak, and she
+turned in alarm, fancying that it was plucked by a human hand. No one,
+however, was behind her.
+
+In Pentyre lane it was dark, very dark. The rude half-walls,
+half-hedges stood up high, walled toward the lane hedged with earth
+and planted with thorns toward the field. The wind hissed through the
+bushes; there was an ash tree by a gate. One branch sawed against
+another, producing a weird, even shrill sound like a cry.
+
+The way led past a farm, and she stole along before it with the utmost
+fear as she heard the dog in the yard begin to bark furiously, and as
+she believed that it was not chained up, might rush forth at her. It
+might fall upon her, and hold her there till the farmer came forth and
+found her, and inquired into the reason of her being there at night.
+If found and recognized, what excuse could she give? What explanation
+could satisfy the inquisitive?
+
+She did not breathe freely till she had come out on the down; the dog
+was still barking, but, as he had not pursued her, she was satisfied
+that he was not at large. Her way now lay for a while over open
+common, and then again entered a lane between the hedges that enclosed
+the fields and meadows of the Glaze.
+
+A dense darkness fell over the down, and Judith for a while was
+uncertain of her way, the track being undistinguishable from the short
+turf on either side. Suddenly she saw some flashes of light that ran
+along the ground and then disappeared.
+
+"This is the road," said a voice.
+
+Judith's heart stood still, and her blood curdled in her veins. If the
+cloud were to roll away--and she could see far off its silvery fringe,
+she would become visible. The voice was that of a man, but whether
+that of a smuggler or of a coast-guard she could not guess. By neither
+did she care to be discovered. By the dim, uncertain light she stole
+off the path, and sank upon the ground among some masses of gorse that
+stood on the common. Between the prickly tufts she might lie, and in
+her dark cloak be mistaken for a patch of furze. She drew her feet
+under the skirt, that the white stockings might not betray her, and
+plucked the hood of her cloak closely round her face. The gorse was
+sharp, and the spikes entered her hands and feet, and pricked her as
+she turned herself about between the bushes to bring herself deeper
+among them.
+
+From where she lay she could see the faintly illumined horizon, and
+against that horizon figures were visible, one--then another--a
+third--she could not count accurately, for there came several
+together; but she was convinced there must have been over a dozen men.
+
+"It's a'most too rough to-night, I reckon," said one of the men.
+
+"No, it is not--the wind is not direct on shore. They'll try it."
+
+"Coppinger and his chaps are down in the cove already," said a third.
+"They wouldn't go out if they wasn't expecting the boats from the
+Black Prince."
+
+"You are sure they're down, Wyvill?"
+
+"Sure and sartain. I seed 'em pass, and mighty little I liked to let
+'em go by--without a pop from my pistol. But I'd my orders. No orders
+against the pistol going off of itself, Captain, if I have a chance
+presently?"
+
+No answer was given to this; but he who had been addressed as Captain
+asked--
+
+"Are the asses out?"
+
+"Yes; a whole score, I reckon."
+
+"Then they'll come up the mule path. We must watch that. Lieutenant
+Hanson will be ready with the cutter to run out and stop their way
+back by water to the Prince. The Prince's men will take to the sea,
+and he'll settle with them; but Coppinger's men will run up the
+cliffs, and we must tackle them. Go on."
+
+Several now disappeared into the darkness, moving toward the sea.
+
+"Here, a word with you, Wyvill," said the Captain.
+
+"Right, sir--here I be."
+
+"Dash it!--it is so dark! Here, step back--a word in your ear."
+
+"Right you are, sir."
+
+They came on to the turf close to where Judith crouched.
+
+"What is that?" said the Captain, hastily.
+
+"What, sir?"
+
+"I thought I trod on something like cloth. Have you a light?"
+
+"No, sir! Home has the dark lantern."
+
+"I suppose it is nothing. What is all that dark stuff there?"
+
+"I'll see, sir," said Wyvill, stooping, and with his hand. "By George,
+sir! it's naught but fuzz."
+
+"Very well, Wyvill--a word between us. I know that if you have the
+chance you intend to send a bullet into Coppinger. I don't blame you.
+I won't say I wouldn't do it--unofficially--but looky' here, man, if
+you can manage without a bullet--say a blow with the butt-end on his
+forehead and a roll over the cliffs--I'd prefer it. In self-defence of
+course we must use fire-arms. But there's some squeamish stomachs, you
+understand; and if it can come about accidentally, as it were--as if
+he'd missed his footing--I'd prefer it. Make it pleasant all around,
+if you can."
+
+"Yes, sir; leave it to me."
+
+"It oughtn't to be difficult, you know, Wyvill. I hear he's broke one
+arm, so is like to be insecure in his hold climbing the cliffs. Then
+no questions asked, and more pleasant, you know. You understand me?"
+
+"Yes, sir; thank you, sir."
+
+Then they went on, and were lost to sight and to hearing. For some
+minutes Judith did not stir. She lay, recovering her breath; she had
+hardly ventured to breathe while the two men were by her, the Captain
+with his foot on her skirt. Now she remained motionless, to consider
+what was to be done. It was of no further use her going on to Pentyre
+Glaze. Coppinger had left it. Wyvill, who had been planted as spy, had
+seen him with his carriers defile out of the lane with the asses that
+were to bring up the smuggled goods from the shore.
+
+She dare not take the path by which on the preceding afternoon she had
+descended with Jamie to the beach, for it was guarded by the
+Preventive men.
+
+There was but one way by which she could reach the shore and warn
+Coppinger, and that was by the chimney of the cave--a way dangerous in
+daylight, one, moreover, not easy to find at night. The mouth of the
+chimney opened upon a ledge that overhung the sea half-way down the
+face of the precipice, and this ledge could only be reached by a
+narrow track--a track apparently traced by sheep.
+
+Judith thought that she might find her way to that part of the down
+from which the descent was to be made; for she had noticed that what
+is locally called a "new-take" wall came near it, and if she could hit
+this wall, she believed she could trace it up to where it approached
+the cliff: and the track descended somewhere thereabouts. She waited
+where she lay till the heavy clouds rolled by, and for a brief space
+the sky was comparatively clear. Then she rose, and took the direction
+in which she ought to go to reach the "new-take" wall. As she went
+over the down, she heard the sea roaring threateningly; on her left
+hand the glint of the light-house on Trevose Head gave her the
+direction she must pursue. But, on a down like that, with a precipice
+on one hand, in a light, uncertain at best, often in complete
+darkness, it was dangerous to advance except by thrusting the foot
+forward tentatively before taking a step. The sea and the gnawing
+winds caused the cliffs to crumble; bits were eaten out of the
+surface, and in places there were fissures in the turf where a rent
+had formed, and where shortly a mass would fall.
+
+It is said that the duties on customs were originally instituted in
+order to enable the Crown to afford protection to trade against
+pirates. The pirates ceased to infest the seas, but the duties were
+not only taken off, but were increased, and became a branch of the
+public revenue. Perhaps some consciousness that the profits were not
+devoted to the purpose originally intended, bred in the people on the
+coast a feeling of resentment against the imposition of duties. There
+certainly existed an impression, a conviction rather, that the
+violation of a positive law of this nature was in no respect criminal.
+Adventurers embarked in the illicit traffic without scruple, as they
+did in poaching. The profit was great, and the danger run enhanced the
+excitement of the pursuit, and gave a sort of heroic splendor to the
+achievements of the successful smuggler.
+
+The Government, to stop a traffic that injured legitimate trade and
+affected the revenue, imposed severe penalties. Smuggling was classed
+among the felonies, "without benefit of clergy," the punishment for
+which was death and confiscation of goods. The consciousness that
+they would be dealt with with severity did not deter bold men from
+engaging in the traffic, but made them desperate in self-defence when
+caught. Conflicts with revenue officers were not uncommon, and lives
+were lost on both sides. The smugglers were not bound together by any
+link, and sometimes one gang was betrayed by another, so as to divert
+suspicion and attention from their own misdeeds, or out of jealousy,
+or on account of a quarrel. It was so on this occasion: the success of
+Coppinger, the ingenuity with which he had carried on his defiance of
+the law, caused envy of him, because he was a foreigner--was, at all
+events, not a Cornishman; this had induced a rival to give notice to
+the Revenue officers, through Scantlebray--a convenient go-between in
+a good many questionable negotiations. The man who betrayed Coppinger
+dared not be seen entering into communication with the officers of the
+law. He, therefore, employed Scantlebray as the vehicle through whom,
+without suspicion resting on himself, his rival might be fallen upon
+and his proceedings brought to an end.
+
+It was now very dark. Judith had reached and touched a wall; but in
+the darkness lost her bearings. The Trevose light was no longer
+visible, and directly she left the wall to strike outward she became
+confused as direction, and in the darkness groped along with her feet,
+stretching her hands before her. Then the rain came down, lashing in
+her face. The wind had shifted somewhat during the evening, and it was
+no guidance to Judith to feel from what quarter the rain drove against
+her. Moreover, the cove formed a great curve in the coast-line, and
+was indented deeply in some places, so that to grope round the edge
+without light in quest of a point only seen or noticed once, seemed a
+desperate venture. Suddenly Judith's foot caught. It was entangled,
+and she could not disengage it. She stooped, and put her hand on a
+chain. It was Jamie's steel dog-chain, one link of which had caught in
+a tuft of rest-harrow.
+
+She had found the spot she wanted, and now waited only till the rain
+had rushed further inland, and a fringe of light appeared in the sky,
+to advance to the very edge of the cliff. She found it expedient to
+stoop as she proceeded, so as to discover some indications of the
+track. There were depressions where feet had worn the turf, and she
+set hers therein, and sought the next. Thus, creeping and groping, she
+neared the edge.
+
+And now came the moment of supreme peril, when, trusting that she had
+found the right path, she must go over the brink. If she were
+mistaken, the next step would send her down two hundred feet, to where
+she heard the roar, and felt the breath of the sea stream up to her
+from the abyss. Here she could distinguish nothing; she must trust to
+Providence to guide her steps. She uttered a short and earnest prayer,
+and then boldly descended. She could not stoop now. To stoop was to
+dive headlong down. She felt her way, however, with her feet, reached
+one firm station, then another. Her hands touched the grass and earth
+of the ragged margin, then with another step she was below it, and
+held to the rain-splashed fangs of rock.
+
+Clinging, with her face inward, feeling with her feet, and never sure
+but that the next moment might see her launched into air, she stole
+onward, slowly, cautiously, and ever with the gnawing dread in her
+heart lest she should be too late. One intense point of consciousness
+stood out in her brain--it told her that if, while thus creeping down,
+there should come the flash and explosion of fire-arms, her courage
+would fail, her head would spin, and she would be lost.
+
+How long she was descending she could not tell, how many steps she
+took was unknown to her--she had not counted--but it seemed to her an
+entire night that passed, with every change of position an hour was
+marked; then, at last, she was conscious that she stood on more level
+ground. She had reached the terrace.
+
+A little further, and on her left hand, would open the mouth of the
+shaft, and she must descend that, in profoundest darkness. A cry! A
+light flashed into her eyes and dazzled her. A hand at the same moment
+clutched her, or she would have reeled back and gone over the cliff.
+
+The light was held to pour over her face. Who held it and who grasped
+her she could not see; but she knew the moment she heard a voice
+exclaim--
+
+"Judith!"
+
+In her terror and exhaustion she could but gasp for breath for a few
+moments.
+
+By degrees her firmness and resolution returned, and she exclaimed,
+in broken tones, panting between every few words--
+
+"Captain Cruel!--you are betrayed--they are after you!"
+
+He did not press her. He waited till she could speak again, lowering
+the lantern.
+
+Then, without the glare in her eyes, she was able to speak more
+freely.
+
+"There is a boat--a Revenue cutter--waiting in the
+bay--and--above--are the Preventive men--and they will kill you."
+
+"Indeed," said he. "And you have come to warn me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tell me--are there any above, where you came down!"
+
+"None; they are on the ass-path."
+
+"Can you ascend as you came down?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He extinguished his lantern, or covered it.
+
+"I must no more show light. I must warn those below." He paused, then
+said--
+
+"Dare you mount alone."
+
+"I came down alone."
+
+"Then do this one thing more for me. Mount, and go to Pentyre. Tell
+your aunt--three lights--red, white, red; then ten minutes, and then,
+red, red, white. Can you remember? Repeat after me: 'Three
+lights--red, white, red; then, ten minutes, and next, red, red, and
+white.'"
+
+Judith repeated the words.
+
+"That is right. Lose no time. I dare not give you a light. None must
+now be shown. The boat from the Black Prince is not in--this lantern
+was her guide. Now it is out she will go back. You will remember the
+signals? I thank you for what you have done. There is but one woman
+would have done it, and that Judith."
+
+He stepped inside the shaft to descend. When hidden, he allowed his
+light again to show, to assist him in his way down. Judith only waited
+till her eyes, that had been dazzled by the light, were recovered, and
+then she braced herself to resume her climb; but now it was to be up
+the cliff.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+CHAINED.
+
+
+To ascend is easier than to go down. Judith was no longer alarmed.
+There was danger still, that was inevitable; but the danger was as
+nothing now to what it had been. It is one thing to descend in total
+darkness into an abyss where one knows that below are sharp rocks, and
+a drop of two hundred feet to a thundering, raging sea, racing up the
+sand, pouring over the shelves of rock, foaming where divided waves
+clash. When Judith had been on the beach in the afternoon the tide was
+out; now it was flowing, and had swept over all that tract of white
+sand and pebble where she had walked. She could not indeed now see the
+water, but she heard the thud of a billow as it smote a rock, the boil
+and the hiss of the waves and spray. To step downward, groping the
+way, with a depth and a wild-throbbing sea beneath, demanded courage,
+and courage of no mean order; but it was other to mount, to be able to
+feel with the foot the ascent in the track, and to grope upward with
+the hand from one point of clutch to another, to know that every step
+upward was lessening the peril, and bringing nearer to the sward and
+to safety.
+
+Without great anxiety, therefore, Judith turned to climb. Cruel
+Coppinger had allowed her to essay it unaided. Would he have done that
+had he thought it involved danger, or, rather, serious danger? Judith
+was sure he would not. His confidence that she could climb to the
+summit unassisted made her confident. As she had descended she had
+felt an interior qualm and sinking at every step she took; there was
+no such sensation now as she mounted.
+
+She was not much inconvenienced by the wind, for the wind was not
+directly on shore; but it soughed about her, and eddies caught her
+cloak and jerked it. It would have been better had she left her cloak
+above on the turf. It incommoded her in her climb; it caught in the
+prongs of rock.
+
+The rain, the water running off the rock, had wet her shoes, soaked
+them, and every step was in moisture that oozed out of them. She was
+glad now to rest on her right hand. In descending, the left had felt
+and held the rock, and it had been rubbed and cut. Probably it was
+bleeding.
+
+Surely there was a little more light in the sky where the sky showed
+between the dense masses of vapor. Judith did not observe this, for
+she did not look aloft; but she could see a steely tract of sea,
+fretted into foam, reflecting an illumination from above, greater than
+the twilight could cast. Then she remembered that there had been a
+moon a few nights before, and thought that it was probably risen by
+this time.
+
+Something chill and wet brushed her face. It startled her for a
+moment, and then she knew by the scent that it was a bunch of samphire
+growing out of the side of the crag.
+
+Shrill in her ear came the scream of a gull that rushed by in the
+darkness, and she felt, or believed she felt, the fan from the wings.
+Again it screamed, and near the ear it pierced her brain like an awl,
+and then again, still nearer, unnerving her. In the darkness she
+fancied that this gull was about to attack her with beak and claws,
+and she put up her left arm as a protection to her eyes. Then there
+broke out a jabber of sea-birds' voices, laughing mockingly, at a
+little distance.
+
+Whither had she got!
+
+The way was no longer easy--one step before another--there was a break
+of continuity in the path, if path the track could be called.
+
+Judith stood still, and put forward her foot to test the rock in
+front. There was no place where it could rest. Had she, bewildered by
+that gull, diverged from the track? It would be well to retreat a few
+steps. She endeavored to do this, and found that she encountered a
+difficulty in finding the place where she had just planted her foot.
+
+It was but too certain that she was off the track line. How to recover
+it she knew not. With the utmost difficulty she did reach a point in
+her rear where she could stand, clinging to the rock; but she clung
+now with both hands. There was no tuft of samphire to brush her face
+as she descended. She must have got wrong before she touched that. But
+where was the samphire? She cautiously felt along the surface of the
+crag in quest of it, but could not find it. There was, however, a
+little above her shoulder, a something that felt like a ledge, and
+which might be the track. If she had incautiously crept forward at a
+level without ascending rapidly enough, she was probably below the
+track. Could she climb to this point--climb up the bare rock, with
+sheer precipice below her? And, supposing that the shelf she felt with
+her hand were not the track, could she descend again to the place
+where she had been?
+
+Her brain spun. She lost all notion as to where she might be--perhaps
+she was below the path, perhaps she was above it. She could not tell.
+She stood with arms extended, clinging to the rock, and her heart beat
+in bounds against the flinty surface. The clasp of her cloak was
+pressing on her throat, and strangling her. The wind had caught the
+garment, and was playing with the folds, carrying it out and flapping
+it behind her over the gulf. It was irksome; it was a danger to her.
+She cautiously slid one hand to her neck, unhasped the mantle, and it
+was snatched from her shoulders and carried away. She was lighter
+without it, could move with greater facility; cold she was not, wet
+she might become, but what mattered that if she could reach the top of
+the cliff?
+
+Not only on her own account was Judith alarmed. She had undertaken a
+commission. She had promised to bear a message to her aunt from
+Coppinger that concerned the safety of his men. What the signal meant
+she did not know, but suspected that it conveyed a message of danger.
+
+She placed both her hands on the ledge, and felt with her knee for
+some point on which to rest it, to assist her in lifting herself from
+where she stood to the higher elevation. There was a small projection,
+and after a moment's hesitation she drew her foot from the shelf
+whereon it had rested and leaned the left knee on this hunch. Then she
+clung with both hands, and with them and her knee endeavored to heave
+herself up about four feet, that is, to the height of her shoulders. A
+convulsive quiver seized on her muscles. She was sustained by a knee
+and her hands only. If they gave way she could not trust to recover
+her previous lodgement place. One desperate strain, and she was on the
+ledge, on both knees, and was feeling with her hands to ascertain if
+she had found the track. Her fingers touched thrift and passed over
+turf. She had not reached what she sought. She was probably farther
+from it than before. As all her members were quivering after the
+effort, she seated herself on the shelf she had reached, leaned back
+against the wet rock, and waited till her racing pulses had recovered
+evenness of flow, and her muscles had overcome the first effects of
+their tension.
+
+Her position was desperate. Rain and perspiration mingled dripped from
+her brow, ran over and blinded her eyes. Her breath came in sobs
+between her parted lips. Her ears were full of the booming of the
+surge far below, and the scarcely less noisy throb of her blood in her
+pulses.
+
+When she had started on her adventurous expedition she had seen some
+stars that had twinkled down on her, and had appeared to encourage
+her. Now, not a star was visible, only, far off on the sea, a wan
+light that fell through a rent in the black canopy over an angry deep.
+Beyond that all was darkness, between her and that all was darkness.
+
+As she recovered her self-possession, with the abatement of the tumult
+in her blood she was able to review her position, and calculate her
+chances of escape from it.
+
+Up the track from the cave the smugglers would almost certainly
+escape, because that was the only way, unwatched, by which they could
+leave the beach without falling into the hands of the Preventive men.
+
+If they came by the path--that path could not be far off, though in
+which direction it lay she could not guess. She would call, and then
+Coppinger or some of his men would come to her assistance.
+
+By this means alone could she escape. There was nothing for her to do
+but to wait.
+
+She bent forward and looked down. She might have been looking into a
+well; but a little way out she could see, or imagine she saw, the
+white fringes of surf stealing in. There was not sufficient light for
+her to be certain whether she really saw foam, or whether her fancy,
+excited by the thunder of the tide, made her suppose she saw it.
+
+The shelf she occupied was narrow and inclined; if she slipped from it
+she could not trust to maintain herself on the lower shelf, certainly
+not if she slid down in a condition of unconsciousness. And now
+reaction after the strain was setting in, and she feared lest she
+might faint. In her pocket was the dog-chain that had caught her foot.
+She extracted that now, and groping along the wall of rock behind her,
+caught a stout tuft of coarse heather, wiry, well rooted; and she took
+the little steel chain and wound it about the branches and stem of the
+plant, and also about her wrist--her right wrist--so as to fasten her
+to the wall. That was some relief to her to know that in the event of
+her dropping out of consciousness there was something to hold her up,
+though that was only the stem of an erica, and her whole weight would
+rest on its rootlets. Would they suffice to sustain her? It was
+doubtful; but there was nothing else on which she could depend.
+
+Suddenly a stone whizzed past, struck the ledge, and rebounded. Then
+came a shower of earth and pebbles. They did not touch her, but she
+heard them clatter down.
+
+Surely they had been displaced by a foot, and that a foot passing
+above.
+
+Then she heard a shot--also overhead, and a cry. She looked aloft, and
+saw against the half-translucent vapors a black struggling figure on
+the edge of the cliff. She saw it but for an instant, and then was
+struck on the face by an open hand, and a body crashed on to the shelf
+at her side, rolled over the edge, and plunged into the gulf below.
+
+She tried to cry, but her voice failed her. She felt her cheek stung
+by the blow she had received. A feeling as though all the rock were
+sinking under her came on, as though she were sliding--not
+shooting--but sliding down, down, and the sky went up higher,
+higher--and she knew no more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+ON THE SHINGLE.
+
+
+The smugglers, warned by Coppinger, had crept up the path in silence,
+and singly, at considerable intervals between each, and on reaching
+the summit of the cliffs had dispersed to their own homes, using the
+precaution to strike inland first, over the "new-take" wall.
+
+As the last of the party reached the top he encountered one of the
+coast-guards, who, by the orders of his superior, was patrolling the
+down to watch that the smugglers did not leave the cove by any other
+path than the one known--that up and down which donkeys were driven.
+This donkey-driving to the beach was not pursued solely for the sake
+of contraband; the beasts brought up loads of sand, which the farmers
+professed they found valuable as manure on their stiff soil, and also
+the masses of seaweed cast on the strand after a gale, and which was
+considered to be possessed of rare fertilizing qualities.
+
+No sooner did the coast-guard see a man ascend the cliff, or rather
+come up over the edge before him, than he fired his pistol to give the
+signal to his fellows, whereupon the smuggler turned, seized him by
+the throat, and precipitated him over the edge.
+
+Of this Coppinger knew nothing. He had led the procession, and had
+made his way to Pentyre Glaze by a roundabout route, so as to evade a
+guard set to watch for him approaching from the cliffs, should one
+have been so planted.
+
+On reaching his door, his first query was whether the signals had been
+made.
+
+"What signals?" asked Miss Trevisa.
+
+"I sent a messenger here with instructions."
+
+"No messenger has been here."
+
+"What, no one--not--" he hesitated, and said, "not a woman?"
+
+"Not a soul has been here--man, woman, or child--since you left."
+
+"No one to see you?"
+
+"No one at all, Captain."
+
+Coppinger did not remove his hat; he stood in the doorway biting his
+thumb. Was it possible that Judith had shrunk from coming to his house
+to bear the message? Yet she had promised to do so. Had she been
+intercepted by the Preventive men? Had--had she reached the top of the
+cliff? Had she, after reaching the top, lost her way in the dark,
+taken a false direction, and--Coppinger did not allow the thought to
+find full expression in his brain. He turned, without another word,
+and hastened to the cottage of Mr. Menaida. He must ascertain whether
+she had reached home.
+
+Uncle Zachie had not retired to bed; Scantlebray had been gone an
+hour; Zachie had drunk with Scantlebray, and he had drunk after the
+departure of that individual to indemnify himself for the loss of his
+company. Consequently Mr. Menaida was confused in mind and thick in
+talk.
+
+"Where is Judith?" asked Coppinger, bursting in on him.
+
+"In bed, I suppose," answered Uncle Zachie, after a while, when he
+comprehended the question, and had had time to get over his surprise
+at seeing the Captain.
+
+"Are you sure? When did she come in?"
+
+"Come in?" said the old man, scratching his forehead with his pipe.
+"Come in--bless you, I don't know; some time in the afternoon. Yes, to
+be sure it was, some time in the afternoon."
+
+"But she has been out to-night?"
+
+"No--no--no," said Uncle Zachie, "it was Scantlebray."
+
+"I say she has--she has been to--" he paused, then said--"to see her
+aunt."
+
+"Aunt Dunes! bless my heart, when?"
+
+"To-night."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"But I say she has. Come, Mr. Menaida. Go up to her room, knock at the
+door, and ascertain if she be back. Her aunt is alarmed--there are
+rough folks about."
+
+"Why, bless me!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "so there are. And--well,
+wonders'll never cease. How came you here! I thought the guard were
+after you. Scantlebray said so."
+
+"Will you go at once and see if Judith Trevisa is home?"
+
+Coppinger spoke with such vehemence, and looked so threateningly at
+the old man, that he staggered out of his chair, and, still holding
+his pipe, went to the stairs.
+
+"Bless me!" said he, "whatever am I about? I've forgot a candle. Would
+you oblige me with lighting one? My hand shakes, and I might light my
+fingers by mistake."
+
+After what seemed to Coppinger to be an intolerable length of time,
+Uncle Zachie stumbled down the stairs again.
+
+"I say," said Mr. Menaida, standing on the steps, "Captain--did you
+ever hear about Tincombe Lane?--
+
+    'Tincombe Lane is all up-hill,
+      Or down hill, as you take it;
+    You tumble up and crack your crown,
+      Or tumble down and break it.'
+
+--It's the same with these blessed stairs. Would you mind lending me a
+hand? By the powers, the banister is not firm! Do you know how it goes
+on?--
+
+    'Tincombe Lane is crooked and straight
+      As pot-hook or as arrow.
+    'Tis smooth to foot, 'tis full of rut,
+      'Tis wide and then 'tis narrow.'
+
+--Thank you, sir, thank you. Now take the candle. Bah! I've broke my
+pipe--and then comes the moral--
+
+    'Tincombe Lane is just like life
+      From when you leave your mother,
+    'Tis sometimes this, 'tis sometimes that,
+      'Tis one thing or the other.'"
+
+In vain had Coppinger endeavored to interrupt the flow of words, and
+to extract from thick Zachie the information he needed, till the old
+gentleman was back in his chair.
+
+Then Uncle Zachie observed--"Blessy'--I said so--I said so a thousand
+times. No--she's not there. Tell Aunt Dunes so. Will you sit down and
+have a drop? The night is rough, and it will do you good--take the
+chill out of your stomach and the damp out of your chest."
+
+But Coppinger did not wait to decline the offer. He turned at once,
+left the house, and dashed the door back as he stepped out into the
+night. He had not gone a hundred paces along the road before he heard
+voices, and recognized that of Mr. Scantlebray--
+
+"I tell you the vessel is the Black Prince, and I know he was to have
+unloaded her to-night."
+
+"Anyhow he is not doing so. Not a sign of him."
+
+"The night is too dirty."
+
+"Wyvill--" Coppinger knew that the Captain at the head of the
+coast-guard was speaking. "Wyvill, I heard a pistol-shot. Where is
+Jenkyns? If you had not been by me I should have said you had acted
+wide of your orders. Has any one seen Jenkyns?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+Suddenly a light flashed forth, and glared upon Coppinger. The Captain
+in command of the coast-guard uttered an oath.
+
+"You out to-night, Mr. Coppinger! Where do you come from?"
+
+"As you see--from Polzeath."
+
+"Humph! From no other direction?"
+
+"I'll trouble you to let me pass."
+
+Coppinger thrust the Preventive man aside, and went on his way.
+
+When he was beyond earshot, Scantlebray said--"I trust he did not
+notice me along with you. You see, the night is too dirty. Let him
+bless his stars, it has saved him."
+
+"I should like to see Jenkyns," said the officer. "I am almost certain
+I heard a pistol-shot; but when I sent in the direction whence it
+came, there was no one to be seen. It's a confounded dark night."
+
+"I hope they've not give us the slip, Captain?" said Wyvill.
+
+"Impossible," answered the officer. "Impossible. I took every
+precaution. They did not go out to-night. As Mr. Scantlebray says, the
+night was too dirty."
+
+Then they went on.
+
+In the meantime Coppinger was making the best of his way to the downs.
+He knew his direction even in the dark--he had the "new-take" wall as
+a guide. What the coast-guard did not suspect was that this "new-take"
+had been made for the very purpose of serving as a guide by which the
+smugglers could find their course in the blackest of winter's nights;
+moreover, in the fiercest storm the wall served as a shelter, under
+lea of which they might approach their cave. Coppinger was without a
+lantern. He doubted if one would avail him, in his quest; moreover,
+the night was lightening, as the moon rode higher.
+
+The smuggler captain stood for a moment on the edge of the cliffs to
+consider what course he should adopt to find Judith. If she had
+reached the summit, it was possible enough that she had lost her way
+and had rambled inland among lanes and across fields, pixy-led. In
+that case it was a hopeless task to search for her; moreover, there
+would be no particular necessity for him to do so, as, sooner or
+later, she must reach a cottage or a farm, where she could learn her
+direction. But if she had gone too near the edge, or if, in her
+ascent, her foot had slipped, then he must search the shore. The tide
+was ebbing now, and left a margin on which he could walk. This was the
+course he must adopt. He did not descend by the track to the chimney,
+as the creeping down of the latter could be effected in absolute
+darkness only with extreme risk; but he bent his way over the down
+skirting the crescent indentation of the cove to the donkey-path,
+which was now, as he knew, unwatched. By that he swiftly and easily
+descended to the beach. Along the shore he crept carefully toward that
+portion which was overhung by the precipice along which the way ran
+from the mouth of the shaft. The night was mending, or at all events
+seemed better. The moon, as it mounted, cast a glimmer through the
+least opaque portions of the driving clouds. Coppinger looked up, and
+could see the ragged fringe of down torn with gullies, and thrust up
+into prongs, black as ink against the gray of the half-translucent
+vapors. And near at hand was the long dorsal ridge that concealed the
+entrance to the cave, sloping rapidly upward and stretching away
+before him into shadow.
+
+Coppinger mused. If one were to fall from above, would he drop between
+the cliff and this curtain, or would he strike and be projected over
+it on to the shelving sand up which stole the waves? He knew that the
+water eddying against friable sandstone strata that came to the
+surface had eaten them out with the wash, and that the hard flakes of
+slate and ribs of quartz stood forth, overhanging the cave. Most
+certainly, therefore, had Judith fallen, her body must be sought on
+the sea-face of the masking ridge. The smuggler stood at the very
+point where in the preceding afternoon Jamie and the dog had scrambled
+up that fin-like blade of rock and disappeared from the astonished
+gaze of Judith. The moon, smothered behind clouds, and yet, in a
+measure self-assertive, cast sufficient light down into the cove to
+glitter on, and transmute into steel, the sea-washed and smoothed, and
+still wet, ridge, sloping inland as a seawall. As Coppinger stood
+looking upward he saw in the uncertain light something caught on the
+fangs of this saw-ridge, moving uneasily this way, then that,
+something dark, obscuring the glossed surface of the rock, as it might
+be a mass of gigantic sea-tangles.
+
+"Judith!" he cried. "Is that you?" and he plunged through the pool
+that intervened, and scrambled up the rock.
+
+He caught something. It was cloth. "Judith! Judith!" he almost
+shrieked in anxiety. That which he had laid hold of yielded, and he
+gathered to him a garment of some sort, and with it he slid back into
+the pool, and waded on to the pebbles. Then he examined his capture by
+the uncertain light, and by feel, and convinced himself that it was a
+cloak--a cloak with clasp and hood--just such as he had seen Judith
+wearing when he flashed his lantern over her on the platform at the
+mouth of the shaft.
+
+He stood for a moment, numbed as though he had been struck on the head
+with a mallet, and irresolute. He had feared that Judith had fallen
+over the edge, but he had hoped that it was not so. This discovery
+seemed to confirm his worst fears.
+
+If the cloak were there--she also would probably be there also, a
+broken heap. She who had thrown him down and broken him, had been
+thrown down herself, and broken also--thrown down and broken because
+she had come to rescue him from danger. Coppinger put his hand to his
+head. His veins were beating as though they would burst the vessels in
+his temples, and suffuse his face with blood. As he stood thus
+clasping his brow with his right hand, the clouds were swept for an
+instant aside, and for an instant the moon sent down a weird glare
+that ran like a wave along the sand, leaped impediments, scrambled up
+rocks, and flashed in the pools. For one moment only--but that
+sufficed to reveal to him a few paces ahead a black heap: there was no
+mistaking it. The rounded outlines were not those of a rock. It was a
+human body lying on the shingle half immersed in the pool at the foot
+of the reef!
+
+A cry of intensest, keenest anguish burst from the heart of Coppinger.
+Prepared though he was for what he must see by the finding of the
+cloak, the sight of that motionless and wrecked body was more than he
+could endure with composure. In the darkness that ensued after the
+moon-gleam he stepped forward, slowly, even timidly, to where that
+human wreck lay, and knelt on both knees beside it on the wet sand.
+
+He waited. Would the moon shine out again and show him what he dreaded
+seeing? He would not put down a hand to touch it. One still clasped
+his brow, the other he could not raise so high, and he held it against
+his breast where it had lately been strapped. He tried to hold his
+breath, to hear if any sound issued from what lay before him. He
+strained his eyes to see if there were any, the slightest movement in
+it. Yet he knew there could be none. A fall from these cliffs above
+must dash every spark of life out of a body that reeled down them. He
+turned his eyes upward to see if the cloud would pass; but no--it
+seemed to be one that was all-enveloping, unwilling to grant him that
+glimpse which must be had, but which would cause him acutest anguish.
+
+He could not remain kneeling there in suspense any longer. In
+uncertainty he was not. The horror was before him--and must be faced.
+
+He thrust his hand into his pocket and drew forth tinder-box and
+flint. With a hand that had never trembled before, but now shaking as
+with an ague, he struck a light. The sparks flew about, and were long
+in igniting the touchwood. But finally it was kindled, and glowed red.
+The wind fanned it into fitful flashes, as Coppinger, stooping, held
+the lurid spark over the prostrate form, and passed it up and down on
+the face. Then suddenly it fell from his hand, and he drew a gasp.
+The dead face was that of a bearded man.
+
+A laugh--a wild, boisterous laugh--rang out into the night, and was
+re-echoed by the cliff, as Coppinger leaped to his feet. There was
+hope still. Judith had not fallen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+FOR LIFE OR DEATH.
+
+
+Coppinger did not hesitate a moment now to leave the corpse on the
+beach where he had found it, and to hasten to the cave.
+
+There was a third alternative to which hitherto he had given no
+attention. Judith, in ascending the cliff, might have strayed from the
+track, and be in such a position that she could neither advance nor
+draw back. He would, therefore, explore the path from the chimney
+mouth, and see if any token could be found of her having so done.
+
+He again held his smouldering tinder and by this feeble glimmer made
+his way up the inclined beach within the cave, passed under the arch
+of the rock where low, and found himself in that portion where was the
+boat.
+
+Here he knew of a receptacle for sundries, such as might be useful in
+an emergency, and to that he made his way, and drew from it a piece of
+candle and a lantern. He speedily lighted the candle, set it in the
+lantern, and then ascended the chimney.
+
+On reaching the platform at the orifice in the face of the rock, it
+occurred to him that he had forgotten to bring rope with him. He would
+not return for that, unless he found a need for it. Rope there was
+below, of many yards length. Till he knew that it was required, it
+seemed hardly worth his while to encumber himself with a coil that
+might be too long or too short for use. He did not even know that he
+would find Judith. It was a chance, that was all. It was more probable
+that she had strayed on the down, and was now back at Polzeath, and
+safe and warm in bed.
+
+From the ledge in front of the shaft Coppinger proceeded with caution
+and leisure, exploring every portion of the ascent with lowered
+lantern. There were plenty of impressions of feet wherever the soft
+and crumbly beds had been traversed, and where the dissolved stone had
+been converted into clay or mud, but these were the impressions of the
+smugglers escaping from their den. Step by step he mounted, till he
+had got about half-way up, when he noticed, what he had not previously
+observed, that there was a point at which the track left the ledge of
+stratified vertical rock that had inclined its broken edge upward, and
+by a series of slips mounted to another fractured stratum, a leaf of
+the story-book turned up with the record of infinite ages sealed up in
+it. It was possible that one unacquainted with the course might grope
+onward, following the ledge instead of deserting it for a direct
+upward climb. As Coppinger now perceived, one ignorant of the way and
+unprovided with a light would naturally follow the shelf. He
+accordingly deserted the track, and advanced along the ledge. There
+was a little turf in one place, in the next a tuft of armeria, then
+mud or clay, and there--assuredly a foot had trodden. There was a mark
+of a sole that was too small to have belonged to a man.
+
+The shelf at first was tolerably broad, and could be followed without
+risk by one whose head was steady; but for how long would it so
+continue? These rough edges, these laminæ of upheaved slate were
+treacherous--they were sometimes completely broken down, forming gaps,
+in places stridable, in others discontinuous for many yards.
+
+The footprints satisfied Coppinger that Judith had crept along this
+terrace, and so had missed the right course. It was impossible that
+she could reach the summit by this way--she must have fallen or be
+clinging at some point farther ahead, a point from which she could not
+advance, and feared to retreat.
+
+He held the lantern above his head, and peered before him, but could
+see nothing. The glare of the artificial light made the darkness
+beyond its radius the deeper and more impervious to the eye. He
+called, but received no answer. He called again, with as little
+success. He listened, but heard no other sound than the mutter of the
+sea, and the wail of the wind. There was nothing for him to do but to
+go forward; and he did that slowly, searchingly, with the light near
+the ground, seeking for some further trace of Judith. He was obliged
+to use caution, as the ledge of rock narrowed. Here it was hard, and
+the foot passing over it made no impression. Then ensued a rift and a
+slide of shale, and here he thought he observed indications of recent
+dislodgement.
+
+Now the foot-hold was reduced, he could no longer stoop to examine the
+soil; he must stand upright and hold to the rock with his right hand,
+and move with precaution lest he should be precipitated below.
+
+Was it conceivable that she had passed there?--there in the dark? And
+yet--if she had not, she must have been hurled below.
+
+Coppinger, clinging with his fingers, and thrusting one foot before
+the other, then drawing forward that foot, with every faculty on the
+alert, passed to where, for a short space, the ledge of rock expanded,
+and there he stooped once more with the light to explore. Beyond was a
+sheer fall, and the dull glare from his lantern showed him no
+continuance of the shelf. As he arose from his bent position, suddenly
+the light fell on a hand--a delicate, childish hand--hanging down. He
+raised the lantern, and saw her whom he sought. At this point she had
+climbed upward to a higher ledge, and on that she lay, one arm raised,
+fastened by a chain to a tuft of heather--her head fallen against the
+rock, and feet and one arm over the edge of the cliff. She was
+unconscious, sustained by a dog-chain and a little bunch of ling.
+
+Coppinger passed the candle over her face. It was white, and the eyes
+did not close before the light.
+
+His position was vastly difficult. She hung there chained to the
+cliff, and he doubted whether he could sustain her weight if he
+attempted to carry her back while she was unconscious, along the way
+he and she had come. It was perilous for one alone to move along that
+strip of surface; it seemed impossible for one to effect it bearing in
+his arms a human burden.
+
+Moreover, Coppinger was well aware that his left arm had not recovered
+its strength. He could not trust her weight on that. He dare not trust
+it on his right arm, for to return by the way he came the right hand
+would be that which was toward the void. The principal weight must be
+thrown inward.
+
+What was to be done? This, primarily: to release the insensible girl
+from her present position, in which the agony of the strain on her
+shoulder perhaps prolonged her unconsciousness.
+
+Coppinger mounted to the shelf on which she lay, and bowing himself
+over her, while holding her, so that she should not slip over the
+edge, he disentangled the chain from her wrist and the stems of the
+heather. Then he seated himself beside her, drew her toward him, with
+his right arm about her, and laid her head on his shoulder.
+
+And the chain?
+
+That he took and deliberately passed it round her waist and his own
+body, fastened it, and muttered, "For life or for death!"
+
+There, for a while, he sat. He had set the lantern beside him. His
+hand was on Judith's heart, and he held his breath, and waited to feel
+if there was pulsation there; but his own arteries were in such
+agitation, the throb in his finger ends prevented his being able to
+satisfy himself as to what he desired to know.
+
+He could not remain longer in his present position. Judith might never
+revive. She had swooned through over-exhaustion, and nothing could
+restore her to life but the warmth and care she would receive in a
+house; he cursed his folly, his thoughtlessness, in having brought
+with him no flask of brandy. He dared remain no longer where he was,
+the ebbing powers in the feeble life might sink beyond recall.
+
+He thrust his right arm under her, and adjusted the chain about him so
+as to throw some of her weight off the arm, and then cautiously slid
+to the step below, and, holding her, set his back to the rocky wall.
+
+So, facing the Atlantic Ocean, facing the wild night sky, torn here
+and there into flakes of light, otherwise cloaked in storm-gloom, with
+the abyss below, an abyss of jagged rock and shingle shore, he began
+to make his way along the track by which he had gained that point.
+
+He was at that part where the shelf narrowed to a foot, and his safety
+and hers depended largely on the power that remained to him in his
+left arm. With the hand of that arm he felt along and clutched every
+projecting point of rock, and held to it with every sinew strained and
+starting. He drew a long breath. Was Judith stirring on his arm?
+
+The critical minute had come. The slightest movement, the least
+displacement of the balance, and both would be precipitated below.
+
+"Judith!" said he, hoarsely, turning his head toward her ear.
+"Judith!"
+
+There was no reply.
+
+"Judith! For Heaven's sake--if you hear me--do not lift a finger. Do
+not move a muscle."
+
+The same heavy weight on him without motion.
+
+"Judith! For life--or death!"
+
+Then suddenly from off the ocean flashed a tiny spark--far, far away.
+
+It was a signal from the Black Prince.
+
+He saw it, fixed his eyes steadily on it, and began to move sideways,
+facing the sea, his back to the rock, reaching forward with his left
+arm, holding Judith in the right.
+
+"For life!"
+
+He took one step sideways, holding with the disengaged hand to the
+rock. The bone of that arm was but just knit. Not only so, but that of
+the collar was also recently sealed up after fracture. Yet the
+salvation of two lives hung on these two infirm joints. The arm was
+stiff; the muscles had not recovered flexibility, nor the sinews their
+strength.
+
+"For death!"
+
+A second sidelong step, and the projected foot slid in greasy marl. He
+dug his heel into the wet and yielding soil, he stamped in it; then,
+throwing all his weight on the left heel, aided by the left arm, he
+drew himself along and planted the right beside the left.
+
+He sucked the air in between his teeth with a hiss. The soft soil was
+sinking--it would break away. The light from the Black Prince seemed
+to rise. With a wrench he planted his left foot on rock--and drew up
+the right to it.
+
+"Judith! For life!"
+
+That star on the black sea--what did it mean? He knew. His mind was
+clear, and though in intense concentration of all his powers on the
+effort to pass this strip of perilous path, he could reason of other
+things, and knew why the Black Prince had exposed her light. The
+lantern that he had borne, and left on the shelf, had been seen by
+her, and she supposed it to be a signal from the terrace over the
+cave.
+
+The next step was full of peril. With his left foot advanced,
+Coppinger felt he had reached the shale. He kicked into it, and kicked
+away an avalanche of loose flakes that slid over the edge. But he
+drove his foot deep into the slope, and rammed a dent into which he
+could fix the right foot when drawn after it.
+
+"For death!"
+
+Then he crept along upon the shale.
+
+He could not see the star now. His sweat, rolling off his brow, had
+run over his eyelids and charged the lashes with tears. In partial
+blindness he essayed the next step.
+
+"For life!"
+
+Then he breathed more freely. His foot was on the grass.
+
+The passage of extreme danger was over. From the point now reached the
+ledge widened, and Coppinger was able to creep onward with less stress
+laid on the fractured bones. The anguish of expectation of death was
+lightened; and as it lightened nature began to assert herself. His
+teeth chattered as in an ague fit, and his breath came in sobs.
+
+In ten minutes he had attained the summit--he was on the down above
+the cliffs.
+
+"Judith," said he, and he kissed her cheeks and brow and hair. "For
+life--for death--mine, only mine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+UNA.
+
+
+When Judith opened her eyes, she found herself in a strange room, but
+as she looked about her she saw Aunt Dionysia with her hands behind
+her back looking out of the window.
+
+"Oh, aunt! Where am I!"
+
+Miss Trevisa turned.
+
+"So you have come round at last, or pleased to pretend to come round.
+It is hard to tell whether or not dissimulation was here."
+
+"Dissimulation, aunt?"
+
+"There's no saying. Young folks are not what they were in my day. They
+have neither the straightforwardness nor the consideration for their
+elders and betters."
+
+"But--where am I?"
+
+"At the Glaze; not where I put you, but where you have put yourself."
+
+"I did not come here, auntie, dear."
+
+"Don't auntie dear me, and deprive me of my natural sleep."
+
+"Have I?"
+
+"Have you not? Three nights have I had to sit up. And natural sleep is
+as necessary to me at my age as is stays. I fall abroad without one or
+the other. Give me my choice--whether I'd have nephews and nieces
+crawling about me or erysipelas, and I'd choose the latter."
+
+"But, aunt--I'm sorry if I am a trouble to you."
+
+"Of course you are a trouble. How can you be other? Don't burs stick?
+But that is neither here nor there."
+
+"Aunt, how came I to Pentyre Glaze!"
+
+"I didn't invite you, and I didn't bring you--you may be sure of that.
+Captain Coppinger found you somewhere on the down at night, when you
+ought to have been at home. You were insensible, or pretended to be
+so--it's not for me to say which."
+
+"Oh, aunt, I don't want to be here."
+
+"Nor do I want you here--and in my room, too. Hoity-toity! nephews and
+nieces are just like pigs--you want them to go one way and they run
+the other."
+
+"But I should like to know where Captain Coppinger found me, and all
+about it. I don't remember anything."
+
+"Then you must ask him yourself."
+
+"I should like to get up; may I?"
+
+"I can't say till the doctor comes. There's no telling--I might be
+blamed. I shall be pleased enough when you are shifted to your own
+room," and she pointed to a door.
+
+"My room, auntie?"
+
+"I suppose so; I don't know whose else it is."
+
+Then Miss Trevisa whisked out of the room.
+
+Judith lay quietly in bed trying to collect her thoughts and recall
+something of what had happened. She could recollect fastening her
+wrist to the shrub by her brother's dog-chain; then, with all the
+vividness of a recurrence of the scene--the fall of the man, the
+stroke on her cheek, his roll over and plunge down the precipice. The
+recollection made a film come over her eyes and her heart stand still.
+After that she remembered nothing. She tried hard to bring to mind one
+single twinkle of remembrance, but in vain. It was like looking at a
+wall and straining the eyes to see through it.
+
+Then she raised herself in bed to look about her. She was in her
+aunt's room, and in her aunt's bed. She had been brought there by
+Captain Coppinger. He, therefore, had rescued her from the position of
+peril in which she had been. So far she could understand. She would
+have liked to know more, but more, probably, her aunt could not tell
+her, even if inclined to do so.
+
+Where was Jamie? Was he at Uncle Zachie's? Had he been anxious and
+unhappy about her? She hoped he had got into no trouble during the
+time he had been free from her supervision. Judith felt that she must
+go back to Mr. Menaida's and to Jamie. She could not stay at the
+Glaze. She could not be happy with her ever-grumbling, ill-tempered
+aunt. Besides, her father would not have wished her to be there.
+
+What did Aunt Dunes mean when she pointed to a door and spoke of her
+room?
+
+Judith could not judge whether she were strong till she tried her
+strength. She slipped her feet to the floor, stood up and stole over
+the floor to that door which her aunt had indicated. She timidly
+raised the latch, after listening at it, opened and peeped into a
+small apartment. To her surprise she saw the little bed she had
+occupied at her dear home, the rectory, her old wash-stand, her
+mirror, the old chairs, the framed pictures that had adorned her
+walls, the common and trifling ornaments that had been arranged on her
+chimney-piece. Every object with which she had been familiar at the
+parsonage for many years, and to which she had said good-by, never
+expecting to have a right to them any more--all these were there,
+furnishing the room that adjoined her aunt's apartment.
+
+She stood looking around in surprise, till she heard a step on the
+stair outside, and, supposing it was that of Aunt Dionysia, she ran
+back to bed, and dived under the clothes and pulled the sheets over
+her golden head.
+
+Aunt Dunes entered the room, bringing with her a bowl of soup. Her eye
+at once caught the opened door into the little adjoining chamber.
+
+"You have been out of bed!"
+
+Judith thrust her head out of its hiding-place, and said, frankly,
+"Yes, auntie! I could not help myself. I want to see. How have you
+managed to get all my things together?"
+
+"I? I have had nothing to do with it."
+
+"But--who did it, auntie?"
+
+"Captain Coppinger; he was at the sale."
+
+"Is the sale over, aunt?"
+
+"Yes, whilst you have been ill."
+
+"Oh, I am so glad it is over, and I knew nothing about it."
+
+"Oh, exactly! Not a thought of the worry you have been to me; deprived
+of my sleep--of my bed--of my bed," repeated Aunt Dunes, grimly. "How
+can you expect a bulb to flower if you take it out of the earth and
+stick it on a bedroom chair stirring broth? I have no patience with
+you young people. You are consumed with selfishness."
+
+"But, auntie! Don't be cross. Why did Captain Coppinger buy all my
+dear crinkum-crankums?"
+
+Aunt Dionysia snorted and tossed her head.
+
+Judith suddenly flushed; she did not repeat the question, but said
+hastily, "Auntie, I want to go back to Mr. Menaida."
+
+"You cannot desire it more than I do," said Miss Trevisa, sharply.
+"But whether _he_ will let you go is another matter."
+
+"Aunt Dunes, if I want to go, I will go!"
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"I will go back as soon as ever I can."
+
+"Well, that can't be to-day, for one thing."
+
+The evening of that same day Judith was removed into the adjoining
+room, "her room," as Miss Trevisa designated it. "And mind you sleep
+soundly, and don't trouble me in the night. Natural sleep is as
+suitable to me as green peas to duck."
+
+When, next morning, the girl awoke, her eyes ranged round and lighted
+everywhere on familiar objects. The two mezzotints of Happy and
+Deserted Auburn, the old and battered pieces of Dresden ware, vases
+with flowers encrusted round them, but with most of the petals broken
+off--vases too injured to be of value to a purchaser, valuable to her
+because full of reminiscences--the tapestry firescreen, the painted
+fans with butterflies on them, the mirror blotched with damp, the
+inlaid wafer-box and ruler, the old snuffer-tray. Her eyes filled with
+tears. A gathering together into one room of old trifles did not make
+that strange room to be home. It was the father, the dear father, who,
+now that he was taken away, made home an impossibility, and the whole
+world, however crowded with old familiar odds and ends, to be desert
+and strange. The sight of all her old "crinkum-crankums," as she had
+called them, made Judith's heart smart. It was kindly meant by
+Coppinger to purchase all these things and collect them there; but it
+was a mistake of judgment. Grateful she was, not gratified.
+
+In the little room there was an ottoman with a woolwork cover
+representing a cluster of dark red, pink, and white roses; and at each
+corner of the ottoman was a tassel, which had been a constant source
+of trouble to Judith, as the tassels would come off, sometimes because
+the cat played with them, sometimes because Jamie pulled them off in
+mischief, sometimes because they caught in her dress. Her father had
+embroidered those dreadful roses on a buff ground one winter when
+confined to the house by a heavy cold and cough. She valued that
+ottoman for his sake, and would not have suffered it to go into the
+sale had she possessed any place she could regard as her own where to
+put it. She needed no such article to remind her of the dear
+father--the thought of him would be forever present to her without the
+assistance of ottomans to refresh her memory.
+
+On this ottoman, when dressed, Judith seated herself, and let her
+hands rest in her lap. She was better; she would soon be well; and
+when well would take the first opportunity to depart.
+
+The door was suddenly thrown open by her aunt, and in the doorway
+stood Coppinger looking at her. He raised his hand to his hat in
+salutation, but said nothing. She was startled and unable to speak. In
+another moment the door was shut again.
+
+That day she resolved that nothing should detain her longer than she
+was forced. Jamie--her own dear Jamie--came to see her, and the twins
+were locked in each other's arms.
+
+"Oh, Ju! darling Ju! You are quite well, are you not! And Captain
+Coppinger has given me a gray donkey instead of Tib; and I'm to ride
+it about whenever I choose!"
+
+"But, dear, Mr. Menaida has no stable, and no paddock."
+
+"Oh, Ju! that's nothing. I'm coming up here, and we shall be
+together--the donkey and you and me and Aunt Dunes!"
+
+"No, Jamie. Nothing of the sort. Listen to me. You remain at Mr.
+Menaida's. I am coming back."
+
+"But I've already brought up my clothes."
+
+"You take them back. Attend to me. You do not come here. I go back to
+Mr. Menaida's immediately."
+
+"But, Ju! you've got all your pretty things from the parsonage here!"
+
+"They are not mine. Mr. Coppinger bought them for himself."
+
+"But--the donkey?"
+
+"Leave the donkey here. Pay attention to my words. I lay a strict
+command on you. As you love me, Jamie, do not leave Mr. Menaida's;
+remain there till my return."
+
+That night there was a good deal of noise in the house. Judith's room
+lay in a wing, nevertheless she heard the riot, for the house was not
+large, and the sounds from the hall penetrated every portion of it.
+She was frightened, and went into Miss Trevisa's room.
+
+"Aunt! what is this dreadful racket about?"
+
+"Go to sleep--you cannot have every one shut his mouth because of
+you."
+
+"But what is it, auntie!"
+
+"It is nothing but the master has folk with him, if you wish
+particularly to know. The whole cargo of the Black Prince has been
+run, and not a finger has been laid by the coast-guard on a single
+barrel or bale. So they are celebrating their success. Go to bed and
+sleep. It is naught to you."
+
+"I cannot sleep, aunt. They are singing now."
+
+"Why should they not; have you aught against it? You are not mistress
+here, that I am aware of."
+
+"But, auntie, are there many down-stairs?"
+
+"I do not know. It is no concern of mine--and certainly none of
+yours."
+
+Judith was silenced for a while by her aunt's ill-humor; but she did
+not return to her room. Presently she asked--
+
+"Are you sure, aunt, that Jamie is gone back to Polzeath?"
+
+Miss Trevisa kicked the stool from under her feet, in her impatience.
+
+"Really! you drive me desperate. I did not bargain for this. Am I to
+tear over the country on post-horses to seek a nephew here and a niece
+there? I can't tell where Jamie is, and what is more, I do not care.
+I'll do my duty by you both. I'll do no more; and that has been forced
+on me, it was not sought by me. Heaven be my witness."
+
+Judith returned to her room. The hard and sour woman would afford her
+no information.
+
+In her room she threw herself on her bed and began to think. She was
+in the very home and head-quarters of contrabandism. But was smuggling
+a sin? Surely not that, or her father would have condemned it
+decidedly. She remembered his hesitation relative to it, in the last
+conversation they had together. Perhaps it was not actually a sin--she
+could recall no text in Scripture that denounced it--but it was a
+thing forbidden, and though she did not understand why it was
+forbidden, she considered that it could not be an altogether
+honorable and righteous traffic. Judith was unable to rest. It was not
+the noise that disturbed her so much as her uneasiness about Jamie.
+Had he obeyed her and gone back to Uncle Zachie? Or had he neglected
+her injunction, and was he in the house, was he below along with the
+revellers?
+
+She opened the door gently, and stole along the passage to the head of
+the stairs, and listened. She could smell the fumes of tobacco; but to
+these she was familiar. The atmosphere of Mr. Menaida's cottage was
+redolent of the Virginian weed. The noise was, however, something to
+which she was utterly unaccustomed: the boisterous merriment, the
+shouts, and occasional oaths. Then a fiddle was played. There was
+disputation, a pause, then the fiddle recommenced; it played a jig;
+there was a clatter of feet, then a roar of laughter--and then--she
+was almost sure she heard the voice of her brother.
+
+Regardless of herself, thinking only of him, without a moment's
+consideration, she ran down the stairs and threw open the door into
+the great kitchen or hall.
+
+It was full of men--wild, rough fellows--drinking and smoking; there
+were lights and a fire. The atmosphere was rank with spirits and
+tobacco; on a chair sat a sailor fiddling, and in the midst of the
+room, on a table, was Jamie dancing a jig, to the laughter and
+applause of the revellers.
+
+The moment Judith appeared silence ensued--the men were surprised to
+see a pale and delicate girl stand before them, with a crown of gold
+like a halo round her ivory-white face. But Judith took no notice of
+anyone there--her eyes were on her brother, and her hand raised to
+attract his attention. Judith had been in bed, but, disturbed by the
+uproar, had risen and drawn on her gown; her feet, however, were bare,
+and her magnificent hair poured over her shoulders unbound. Her whole
+mind, her whole care, was for Jamie; on herself not a thought rested;
+she had forgotten that she was but half clothed.
+
+"Jamie! Jamie!" she cried. "My brother! my brother!"
+
+The fiddler ceased, lowered his violin, and stared at her.
+
+"Ju, let me alone! It is such fun," said the boy.
+
+"Jamie! this instant you shall come with me. Get down off the table!"
+
+As he hesitated, and looked round to the men who had been applauding
+him for support against his sister, she went to the table, and caught
+him by the feet.
+
+"Jamie! in pity to me! Jamie! think--papa is but just dead."
+
+Then tears of sorrow, shame, and entreaty filled her eyes.
+
+"No, Ju! I'm not tied to your apron-strings," said the lad,
+disengaging himself.
+
+But in an instant he was caught from the table by the strong arm of
+Coppinger, and thrust toward the door.
+
+"Judith, you should not have come here."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Coppinger--and Jamie! why did you let him--"
+
+Coppinger drew the girl from the room into the passage.
+
+"Judith, not for the world would I have had you here," said he, in an
+agitated voice. "I'll kill your aunt for letting you come down."
+
+"Mr. Coppinger, she knew nothing of my coming. Come I must--I heard
+Jamie's voice."
+
+"Go," said the Captain, shaking the boy. He was ashamed of himself and
+angry. "Beware how you disobey your sister again."
+
+Coppinger's face was red as fire. He turned to Judith--
+
+"Your feet are bare. Let me carry you up-stairs--carry you once more."
+
+She shook her head. "As I came down so I can return."
+
+"Will you forgive me?" he said, in a low tone.
+
+"Heaven forgive you," she answered, and burst into tears. "You will
+break my heart, I foresee it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+A GOLDFISH.
+
+
+Next day--just in the same way as the day before--when Judith was
+risen and dressed, the door was thrown open, and again Coppinger was
+revealed, standing outside, looking at her with a strange expression,
+and saying no word.
+
+But Judith started up from her chair and went to him in the passage,
+put forth her delicate white hand, laid it on his cuff, and said: "Mr.
+Coppinger, may I speak to you?"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Where you like--down-stairs will be best, in the hall if no one be
+there."
+
+"It is empty."
+
+He stood aside and allowed her to precede him.
+
+The staircase was narrow, and it would have been dark but for a small
+dormer-window through which light came from a squally sky covered with
+driving white vapors. But such light as entered from a white and wan
+sun fell on her head as she descended--that head of hair was like the
+splendor of a beech-tree touched by frost before the leaves fall.
+
+Coppinger descended after her.
+
+When they were both in the hall, he indicated his arm-chair by the
+hearth for her to sit in, and she obeyed. She was weak, and now also
+nervous. She must speak to the smuggler firmly, and that required all
+her courage.
+
+The room was tidy; all traces of the debauch of the preceding night
+had disappeared.
+
+Coppinger stood a few paces from her. He seemed to know that what she
+was going to say would displease him, and he did not meet her clear
+eyes, but looked with a sombre frown upon the floor.
+
+Judith put the fingers of her right hand to her heart to bid it cease
+beating so fast, and then rushed into what she had to say, fearing
+lest delay should heighten the difficulty of saying it.
+
+"I am so--so thankful to you, sir, for what you have done for me. My
+aunt tells me that you found and carried me here. I had lost my way on
+the rocks, and but for you I would have died."
+
+"Yes," he said, raising his eyes suddenly and looking piercingly into
+hers, "but for me you would have died."
+
+"I must tell you how deeply grateful I am for this and for other
+kindnesses. I shall never forget that this foolish, silly, little life
+of mine I owe to you."
+
+Again her heart was leaping so furiously as to need the pressure of
+her fingers on it to check it.
+
+"We are quits," said Coppinger, slowly. "You came--you ran a great
+risk to save me. But for you I might be dead. So this rude and
+worthless--this evil life of mine," he held out his hands, both palms
+before her, and spoke with quivering voice--"I owe to you."
+
+"Then," said Judith, "as you say, we are quits. Yet no. If one account
+is cancelled, another remains unclosed. I threw you down and broke
+your bones. So there still remains a score against me."
+
+"That I have forgiven long ago," said he. "Throw me down, break me,
+kill me, do with me what you will--and--I will kiss your hand."
+
+"I do not wish to have my hand kissed," said Judith, hastily, "I let
+you understand that before."
+
+He put his elbow against the mantel-shelf, and leaned his brow against
+his open hand, looking down at her, so she could not see his face
+without raising her eyes, but he could rest his on her and study her,
+note her distress, the timidity with which she spoke, the wince when
+he said a word that implied his attachment to her.
+
+"I have not only to thank you, Captain Coppinger, but I have to say
+good-by."
+
+"What--go?"
+
+"Yes--I shall go back to Mr. Menaida to-day."
+
+He stamped, and his face became blood-red. "You shall not. I will
+it--here you stay."
+
+"It cannot be," said Judith, after a moment's pause to let his passion
+subside. "You are not my guardian, though very generously you have
+undertaken to be valuer for me in dilapidations. I must go, I and
+Jamie."
+
+He shook his head. He feared to speak, his anger choked him.
+
+"I cannot remain here myself, and certainly I will not let Jamie be
+here."
+
+"Is it because of last night's foolery you say that?"
+
+"I am responsible for my brother. He is not very clever; he is easily
+led astray. There is no one to think for him, to care for him, but
+myself. I could never let him run the risk of such a thing happening
+again."
+
+"Confound the boy!" burst forth Coppinger. "Are you going to bring him
+up as a milk-sop? You are wrong altogether in the way you manage him."
+
+"I can but follow my conscience."
+
+"And is it because of him that you go?"
+
+"Not because of him only."
+
+"But I have spoken to your aunt; she consents."
+
+"But I do not," said Judith.
+
+He stamped again, passionately.
+
+"I am not the man who will bear to be disobeyed and my will crossed. I
+say--Here you shall stay."
+
+Judith waited a moment, looking at him steadily out of her clear,
+glittering iridescent eyes, and said slowly, "I am not the girl to be
+obliged to stay where my common-sense and my heart say Stay not."
+
+He folded his arms, lowered his chin on his breast, and strode up and
+down the room. Then, suddenly, he stood still opposite her and asked,
+in a threatening tone:
+
+"Do you not like your room? Does that not please your humor?"
+
+"It has been most kind of you to collect all my little bits of rubbish
+there. I feel how good you have been, how full of thought for me; but,
+for all that, I cannot stay."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I have said, on one account, because of Jamie."
+
+He bit his lips--"I hate that boy."
+
+"Then most certainly he cannot be here. He must be with those who love
+him."
+
+"Then stay."
+
+"I cannot--I will not. I have a will as well as you. My dear papa
+always said that my will was strong."
+
+"You are the only person who has ever dared to resist me."
+
+"That may be; I am daring--because you have been kind."
+
+"Kind to you. Yes--to you only."
+
+"It may be so, and because kind to me, and me only, I, and I only,
+presume to say No when you say Yes."
+
+He came again to the fireplace and again leaned against the
+mantel-shelf. He was trembling with passion.
+
+"And what if I say that, if you go, I will turn old Dunes--I mean your
+aunt--out of the house?"
+
+"You will not say it, Mr. Coppinger; you are too noble, too generous,
+to take a mean revenge."
+
+"Oh! you allow there is some good in me?"
+
+"I thankfully and cheerfully protest there is a great deal of good in
+you--and I would there were more."
+
+"Come--stay here and teach me to be good--be my crutch; I will lean on
+you, and you shall help me along the right way."
+
+"You are too great a weight, Mr. Coppinger," said she, smiling--but it
+was a frightened and a forced smile. "You would bend and break the
+little crutch."
+
+He heaved a long breath. He was looking at her from under his hand and
+his bent brows.
+
+"You are cruel--to deny me a chance. And what if I were to say that I
+am hungry, sick at heart, and faint. Would you turn your back and
+leave me?"
+
+"No, assuredly not."
+
+"I am hungry."
+
+She looked up at him, and was frightened by the glitter in his eyes.
+
+"I am hungry for the sight of you, for the sound of your voice."
+
+She did not say anything to this, but sat, with her hands on her lap,
+musing, uncertain how to deal with this man, so strange, impulsive,
+and yet so submissive to her, and even appealing to her pity.
+
+"Mr. Coppinger, I have to think of and care for Jamie, and he takes up
+all my thoughts and engrosses all my time."
+
+"Jamie, again!"
+
+"So that I cannot feed and teach another orphan."
+
+"Put off your departure--a week. Grant me that. Then you will have
+time to get quite strong, and also you will be able to see whether it
+is not possible for you to live here. Here is your aunt--it is natural
+and right that you should be with her. She has been made your guardian
+by your father. Do you not bow to his directions."
+
+"Mr. Coppinger, I cannot stay here."
+
+"I am at a disadvantage," he exclaimed. "Man always is when carrying
+on a contest with a woman. Stay--stay here and listen to me." He put
+out his hand and pressed her back into the chair, for she was about to
+rise. "Listen to what I say. You do not know--you cannot know--how
+near death you and I--yes, you and I were, chained together." His deep
+voice shook. "You and I were on the face of the cliff. There was but
+one little strip, the width of my hand"--he held out his palm before
+her--"and that was not secure. It was sliding away under my feet.
+Below was death, certain death--a wretched death. I held you. That
+little chain tied us two--us two together. All your life and mine hung
+on was my broken arm and broken collar-bone. I held you to me with my
+right arm and the chain. I did not think we should live. I thought
+that together--chained together, I holding you--so we would die--so we
+would be found--and my only care, my only prayer was, if so, that so
+we might be washed to sea and sink together, I holding you and chained
+to you, and you to me. I prayed that we might never be found; for I
+thought if rude hands were laid on us that the chain would be
+unloosed, my arm unlocked from about you, and that we should be
+carried to separate graves. I could not endure that thought. Let us go
+down together--bound, clasped together--into the depths of the deep
+sea, and there rest. But it was not to be so. I carried you over that
+stage of infinite danger. An angel or a devil--I cannot say
+which--held me up. And then I swore that never in life should you be
+loosed from me, as I trusted that in death we should have remained
+bound together. See!" He put his hand to her head and drew a lock of
+her golden hair and wound it about his hand and arm. "You have me fast
+now--fast in a chain of gold--of gold infinitely precious to
+me--infinitely strong--and you will cast me off, who never thought to
+cast you off when tied to you with a chain of iron. What say you? Will
+you stand in safety on your cliff of pride and integrity and unloose
+the golden band and say, 'Go down--down. I know nothing in you to
+love. You are naught to me but a robber, a wrecker, a drunkard, a
+murderer--go down into Hell?'"
+
+In his quivering excitement he acted the whole scene, unconscious that
+he was so doing, and the drops of agony stood on his brow and
+rolled--drip--drip--drip from it. Man does not weep; his tears exude
+more bitter than those that flow from the eyes, and they distil from
+his pores.
+
+Judith was awed by the intensity of passion in the man, but not
+changed in her purpose. His vehemence reacted on her, calming her,
+giving her determination to finish the scene decisively and finally.
+
+"Mr. Coppinger," she said, looking up to him, who still held her by
+the hair wound about his hand and arm, "it is you who hold me in
+chains, not I you. And so I--your prisoner--must address a gaoler. Am
+I to speak in chains, or will you release me?"
+
+He shook his head, and clenched his hand on the gold hair.
+
+"Very well," said she, "so it must be; I, bound, plead my cause with
+you--at a disadvantage. This is what I must say at the risk of hurting
+you; and, Heaven be my witness, I would not wound one who has been so
+good to me--one to whom I owe my life, my power now to speak and
+entreat." She paused a minute to gain breath and strengthen herself
+for what she had to say.
+
+"Mr. Coppinger--do you not yourself see that it is quite impossible
+that I should remain in this house--that I should have anything more
+to do with you? Consider how I have been brought up--what my thoughts
+have been. I have had, from earliest childhood, my dear papa's example
+and teachings, sinking into my heart till they have colored my very
+life-blood. My little world and your great one are quite different.
+What I love and care for is folly to you, and your pursuits and
+pleasures are repugnant to me. You are an eagle--a bird of prey."
+
+"A bird of prey," repeated Coppinger.
+
+"And you soar and fight, and dive, and rend in your own element;
+whereas I am a little silver trout----"
+
+"No"--he drew up his arm wound round with her hair--"No--a goldfish."
+
+"Well, so be it; a goldfish swimming in my own crystal element, and
+happy in it. You would not take me out of it to gasp and die. Trust
+me, Captain Coppinger, I could not--even if I would--live in your
+world."
+
+She put up her hands to his arm and drew some of the hair through his
+fingers, and unwound it from his sleeve. He made no resistance. He
+watched her, in a dream. He had heard every word she had said, and he
+knew that she spoke the truth. They belonged to different realms of
+thought and sensation. He could not breathe--he would stifle--in hers,
+and it was possible--it was certain--that she could not endure the
+strong, rough quality of his.
+
+Her delicate fingers touched his hand, and sent a spasm to his heart.
+She was drawing away another strand of hair, and untwisting it from
+about his arm, passing the wavy, fire-gold from one hand to the other.
+And as every strand was taken off, so went light and hope from him,
+and despair settled down on his dark spirit.
+
+He was thinking whether it would not have been better to have thrown
+himself down when he had her in his arms, and bound to him by the
+chain.
+
+Then he laughed.
+
+She looked up, and caught his wild eye. There was a timid inquiry in
+her look, and he answered it.
+
+"You may unwind your hair from my arm, but it is woven round and round
+my heart, and you cannot loose it thence."
+
+She drew another strand away, and released that also from his arm.
+There remained now but one red-gold band of hair fastening her to him.
+He looked entreatingly at her, and then at the hair.
+
+"It must indeed be so," she said, and released herself wholly.
+
+Then she stood up, a little timidly, for she could not trust him in
+his passion and his despair. But he did not stir; he looked at her
+with fixed, dreamy eyes. She left her place, and moved toward the
+door. She had gone forth from Mr. Menaida's without hat or other cover
+for her head than the cloak with its hood, and that she had lost. She
+must return bare-headed. She had reached the door; and there she waved
+him a farewell.
+
+"Goldfish!" he cried.
+
+She halted.
+
+"Goldfish, come here; one--one word only."
+
+She hesitated whether to yield. The man was dangerous. But she
+considered that with a few strides he might overtake her if she tried
+to escape. Therefore she returned toward him, but came not near enough
+for him to touch her.
+
+"Hearken to me," said he. "It may be as you say. It is as you say. You
+have your world; I have mine. You could not live in mine, nor I in
+yours." But his voice thrilled. "Swear to me--swear to me now--that
+while I live no other shall hold you, as I would have held you, to his
+side; that no other shall take your hair and wind it round him, as I
+have--I could not endure that. Will you swear to me that?--and you
+shall go."
+
+"Indeed I will; indeed, indeed I will."
+
+"Beware how you break this oath. Let him beware who dares to seek
+you." He was silent, looking on the ground, his arms folded. So he
+stood for some minutes, lost in thought. Then suddenly he cried out,
+"Goldfish!"
+
+He had found a single hair, long--a yard long--of the most intense
+red-gold, lustrous as a cloud in the west over the sunken sun. It had
+been left about his arm and hand.
+
+"Goldfish!"
+
+But she was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+BOUGHT AND SOLD.
+
+
+Cruel Coppinger remained brooding in the place where he had been
+standing, and as he stood there his face darkened. He was a man of
+imperious will and violent passions; a man unwont to curb himself;
+accustomed to sweep out of his path whoever or whatever stood between
+him and the accomplishment of his purpose; a man who never asked
+himself whether that purpose were good or bad. He had succumbed, in a
+manner strange and surprising to himself, to the influence of
+Judith--a sort of witchery over him that subdued his violence and awed
+him into gentleness and modesty. But when her presence was withdrawn
+the revolt of the man's lawless nature began. Who was this who had
+dared to oppose her will to his? a mere child of eighteen. Women were
+ever said to be a perverse generation, and loved to domineer over men;
+and man was weak to suffer it. So thinking, chafing, he had worked
+himself into a simmering rage when Miss Trevisa entered the hall,
+believing it to be empty. Seeing him, she was about to withdraw, when
+he shouted to her to stay.
+
+"I beg your pardon for intruding, sir; I am in quest of my niece.
+Those children keep me in a whirl like a teetotum."
+
+"Your niece is gone."
+
+"Gone! where to?"
+
+"Back--I suppose to that old fool, Menaida. He is meet to be a
+companion for her and that idiot, her brother; not I--I am to be
+spurned from her presence."
+
+Miss Trevisa was surprised, but she said nothing. She knew his moods.
+
+"Stand there, Mother Dunes!" said Coppinger, in his anger and
+humiliation, glad to have some one on whom he could pour out the lava
+that boiled up in his burning breast. "Listen to me. She has told me
+that we belong to different worlds--she and I--and to different races,
+kinds of being, and that there can be no fellowship betwixt us. Where
+I am she will not be. Between me and you there is a great gulf
+fixed--see you? and I am as Dives tormented in my flame, and she
+stands yonder, serene, in cold and complacent blessedness, and will
+not cross to me with her finger dipped in cold water to cool my
+tongue; and as for my coming near to her"--he laughed fiercely--"that
+can never be."
+
+"Did she say all that?" asked Miss Trevisa.
+
+"She looked it; she implied it, if she did not say it in these naked
+words. And, what is more," shouted he, coming before Aunt Dionysia,
+threateningly, so that she recoiled, "it is true. When she sat there
+in yonder chair, and I stood here by this hearthstone, and she spoke,
+I knew it was true; I saw it all--the great gulf unspanned by any
+bridge. I knew that none could ever bridge it, and there we were,
+apart for ever, I in my fire burning, she in Blessedness--indifferent."
+
+"I am very sorry," said Miss Trevisa, "that Judith should so have
+misconducted herself. My brother brought her up in a manner to my
+mind, most improper for a young girl. He made her read Rollin's
+'Ancient History,' and Blair's 'Chronological Tables,' and really upon
+my word, I cannot say what else."
+
+"I do not care how it was," said Coppinger. "But here stands the
+gulf."
+
+"Rollin is in sixteen octavo volumes," said Aunt Dionysia; "and they
+are thick also."
+
+Coppinger strode about the room, with his hands in his deep coat
+pockets, his head down.
+
+"My dear brother," continued Miss Trevisa, apologetically, "made of
+Judith his daily companion, told her all he thought, asked her
+opinion, as though she were a full-grown woman, and one whose opinion
+was worth having, whereas he never consulted me, never cared to talk
+to me about anything, and the consequence is the child has grown up
+without that respect for her elders and betters, and that deference
+for the male sex which the male sex expects. I am sure when I was a
+girl, and of her age, I was very different, very different indeed."
+
+"Of that I have not the smallest doubt," sneered Coppinger. "But never
+mind about yourself. It is of her I am speaking. She is gone, has
+left me, and I cannot endure it. I cannot endure it," he repeated.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Aunt Dionysia, "you must excuse me saying
+it, Captain Coppinger, but you place me in a difficult position. I am
+the guardian of my niece, though, goodness knows, I never desired it,
+and I don't know what to think. It is very flattering and kind, and I
+esteem it great goodness in you to speak of Judith with such warmth,
+but----"
+
+"Goodness! kindness!" exclaimed Coppinger. "I am good and kind to her!
+She forced me to it. I can be nothing else, and she throws me at her
+feet and tramples on me."
+
+"I am sure your sentiments, sir, are--are estimable; but, feeling as
+you seem to imply toward Judith, I hardly know what to say. Bless me!
+what a scourge to my shoulders these children are: nettles stinging
+and blistering my skin, and not allowing me a moment's peace!"
+
+"I imply nothing," said Coppinger. "I speak out direct and plain what
+I mean. I love her. She has taken me, she turns me about, she gets my
+heart between her little hands and tortures it."
+
+"Then surely, Captain, you cannot ask me to let her be here. You are
+most kind to express yourself in this manner about the pert hussy,
+but, as she is my niece, and I am responsible for her, I must do my
+duty by her, and not expose her to be--talked about. Bless me!" gasped
+Aunt Dunes, "when I was her age I never would have put myself into
+such a position as to worry my aunt out of her seven senses, and bring
+her nigh to distraction."
+
+"I will marry her, and make her mistress of my house and all I have,"
+said Coppinger.
+
+Miss Trevisa slightly courtesied, then said, "I am sure you are
+over-indulgent, but what is to become of me? I have no doubt it will
+be very comfortable and acceptable to Judith to hear this, but--what
+is to become of me? It would not be very delightful for me to be
+housekeeper here under my own niece, a pert, insolent, capricious
+hussy. You can see at once, Captain Coppinger, that I cannot consent
+to that."
+
+The woman had the shrewdness to know that she could be useful to
+Coppinger, and the selfishness that induced her to make terms with
+him to secure her own future, and to show him that she could stand in
+his way till he yielded to them.
+
+"I never asked to have these children thrust down my throat, like the
+fish-bone that strangled Lady Godiva--no, who was it? Earl Godiva; but
+I thank my stars I never waded through Rollin, and most certainly kept
+my hands off Blair. Of course, Captain Coppinger, it is right and
+proper of you to address yourself to me, as the guardian of my niece,
+before speaking to her."
+
+"I have spoken to her and she spurns me."
+
+"Naturally, because you spoke to her before addressing me on the
+subject. My dear brother--I will do him this justice--was very
+emphatic on this point. But you see, sir, my consent can never be
+given."
+
+"I do not ask your consent."
+
+"Judith will never take you without it."
+
+"Consent or no consent," said Coppinger, "that is a secondary matter.
+The first is, she does not like me, whereas I--I love her. I never
+loved a woman before. I knew not what love was. I laughed at the
+fools, as I took them to be, who sold themselves into the hands of
+women; but now, I cannot live without her. I can think of nothing but
+her all day. I am in a fever, and cannot sleep at night--all because
+she is tormenting me."
+
+All at once, exhausted by his passion, desperate at seeing no chance
+of success, angry at being flouted by a child, he threw himself into
+the chair, and settled his chin on his breast, and folded his arms.
+
+"Go on," said he. "Tell me what is my way out of this."
+
+"You cannot expect my help or my advice, Captain, so as to forward
+what would be most unsatisfactory to me."
+
+"What! do you grudge her to me?"
+
+"Not that; but, if she were here, what would become of me? Should I be
+turned out into the cold at my age by this red-headed hussy, to find a
+home for myself with strangers? Here I never would abide with her as
+mistress, never."
+
+"I care naught about you."
+
+"No, of that I am aware, to my regret, sir; but that makes it all the
+more necessary for me to take care for myself."
+
+"I see," said Coppinger, "I must buy you. Is your aid worth it? Will
+she listen to you?"
+
+"I can make her listen to me," said Aunt Dunes, "if it be worth my
+while. At my age, having roughed it, having no friends, I must think
+of myself and provide for the future, when I shall be too old to
+work."
+
+"Name your price."
+
+Miss Trevisa did not answer for a while; she was considering the terms
+she would make. To her coarse and soured mind there was nothing to
+scruple at in aiding Coppinger in his suit. The Trevisas were of a
+fine old Cornish stock, but then Judith took after her mother, the
+poor Scottish governess, and Aunt Dunes did not feel toward her as
+though she were of her own kin. The girl looked like her mother. She
+had no right, in Miss Trevisa's eyes, to bear the name of her father,
+for her father ought to have known better than stoop to marry a
+beggarly, outlandish governess. Not very logical reasoning, but what
+woman, where her feelings are engaged, does reason logically? Aunt
+Dunes had never loved her niece; she felt an inner repulsion, such as
+sprang from encountering a nature superior, purer, more refined than
+her own, and the mortification of being forced to admit to herself
+that it was so. Judith, moreover, was costing her money, and Miss
+Trevisa parted with her hard-earned savings as reluctantly as with her
+heart's blood. She begrudged the girl and her brother every penny she
+was forced, or believed she would be forced, to expend upon them. And
+was she doing the girl an injury in helping her to a marriage that
+would assure her a home and a comfortable income?
+
+Aunt Dionysia knew well enough that things went on in Pentyre Glaze
+that were not to be justified, that Coppinger's mode of life was not
+one calculated to make a girl of Judith's temperament happy,
+but--"Hoity-toity!" said Miss Trevisa to herself, "if girls marry,
+they must take men as they find them. Beggars must not be choosers.
+You must not look a gift horse in the mouth. No trout can be eaten
+apart from its bones, nor a rose plucked that is free from thorns."
+She herself had accommodated herself to the ways of the house, to the
+moods and manners of Coppinger; and if she could do that, so could a
+mongrel Trevisa. What was good enough for herself was over-good for
+Judith.
+
+She had been saddled with these children, much against her wishes,
+and if she shifted the saddle to the shoulders of one willing to bear
+it, why not? She had duties to perform to her own self as well as to
+those thrust on her by the dead hand of that weak, that inconsiderate
+brother of hers, Peter Trevisa.
+
+Would her brother have approved of her forwarding this union? That was
+a question that did not trouble her much. Peter did what he thought
+best for his daughter when he was alive, stuffing her head with Rollin
+and Blair, and now that he was gone, she must do the best she could
+for her, and here was a chance offered that she would be a fool not to
+snap at.
+
+Nor did she concern herself greatly whether Judith's happiness were at
+stake. Hoity-toity! girls' happiness! They are bound to make
+themselves happy when they find themselves. The world was not made to
+fit them, but they to accommodate themselves to the places in which
+they found themselves in the world.
+
+Miss Trevisa had for some days seen the direction matters were taking,
+she had seen clearly enough the infatuation--yes, infatuation she said
+it was--that had possessed Coppinger. What he could see in the girl
+passed her wits to discover. To her, Judith was an odious little
+minx--very like her mother. Miss Trevisa, therefore, had had time to
+weigh the advantages and the disadvantages that might spring to her,
+should Coppinger persist in his suit and succeed; and she had
+considered whether it would be worth her while to help or to hinder
+his suit.
+
+"You put things," said Aunt Dionysia, "in a blunt and a discourteous
+manner, such as might offend a lady of delicacy, like myself, who am
+in delicacy a perfect guava jelly; but, Captain, I know your ways, as
+I ought to, having been an inmate of this house for many years. It is
+no case of buying and selling, as you insinuate, but the case is
+plainly this: I know the advantage it will be to my niece to be
+comfortably provided for. She and Jamie have between them but about a
+thousand pounds, a sum to starve, and not to live, upon. They have no
+home and no relative in the world but myself, who am incapable of
+giving them a home and of doing anything for them except at an
+excruciating sacrifice. If Judith be found, through your offer, a
+home, then Jamie also is provided for."
+
+He said nothing to this, but moved his feet impatiently. She went on:
+"The boy _must_ be provided for. And if Judith become your wife, not
+only will it be proper for you to see that he is so, but Judith will
+give neither you nor me our natural rest until the boy is comfortable
+and happy."
+
+"Confound the boy!"
+
+"It is all very well to say that, but he who would have anything to
+say to Judith must reckon to have to consider Jamie also. They are
+inseparable. Now, I assume that by Judith's marriage Jamie is cared
+for. But how about myself? Is every one to lie in clover and I in
+stubble? Am I to rack my brains to find a home for my nephew and
+niece, only that I may be thrust out myself? To find for them places
+at your table, that I may be deprived of a crust and a bone under it?
+If no one else will consider me, I must consider myself. I am the last
+representative of an ancient and honorable family--" She saw Coppinger
+move his hand, and thought he expressed dissent. She added hastily,
+"As to Judith and Jamie, they take after their Scotch mother. I do not
+reckon them as Trevisas."
+
+"Come--tell me what you want," said Coppinger, impatiently.
+
+"I want to be secure for my old age, that I do not spend it in the
+poor-house."
+
+"What do you ask?"
+
+"Give me an annuity of fifty pounds for my life, and Othello Cottage
+that is on your land."
+
+"You ask enough."
+
+"You will never get Judith without granting me that."
+
+"Well--get Judith to be mine, and you shall have it."
+
+"Will you swear to it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And give me--I desire that--the promise in writing."
+
+"You shall have it."
+
+"Then I will help you."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Leave that to me. I am her guardian."
+
+"But not of her heart?"
+
+"Leave her to me. You shall win her."
+
+"How!"
+
+"Through Jamie."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+OTHELLO COTTAGE.
+
+
+To revert to the old life as far as possible under changed
+circumstances, to pass a sponge over a terrible succession of
+pictures, to brush out the vision of horrors from her eyes, and shake
+the burden of the past off her head--if for a while only--was a joy to
+Judith. She had been oppressed with nightmare, and now the night was
+over, her brain clear, and should forget its dreams.
+
+She and Jamie were together, and were children once more; her anxiety
+for her brother was allayed, and she had broken finally with Cruel
+Coppinger. Her heart bounded with relief. Jamie was simple and docile
+as of old; and she rambled with him through the lanes, along the
+shore, upon the downs, avoiding only one tract of common and one cove.
+
+A child's heart is elastic; eternal droopings it cannot bear. Beaten
+down, bruised and draggled by the storm, it springs up when the sun
+shines, and laughs into flower. It is no eucalyptus that ever hangs
+its leaves; it is a sensitive plant, wincing, closing, at a trifle,
+feeling acutely, but not for long.
+
+And now Judith had got an idea into her head, that she communicated to
+Jamie, and her sanguine anticipations kindled his torpid mind. She had
+resolved to make little shell baskets and other chimney ornaments, not
+out of the marine shells cast up by the sea, for on that coast none
+came ashore whole, but out of the myriad snail-shells that strew the
+downs. They were of all sizes, from a pin's head to a gooseberry, and
+of various colors--salmon-pink, sulphur-yellow, rich brown and pure
+white. By judicious arrangement of sizes and of colors, with a little
+gum on cardboard, what wonderful erections might be made, certain to
+charm the money out of the pocket, and bring in a little fortune to
+the twins.
+
+"And then," said Jamie, "I can build a linney, and rent a paddock, and
+keep my Neddy at Polzeath."
+
+"And," said Judith, "we need be no longer a burden to Auntie."
+
+The climax of constructive genius would be exhibited in the formation
+of a shepherd and shepherdess, for which Judith was to paint faces and
+hands; but their hats, their garments, their shoes, were to be made of
+shells. The shepherdess was to have a basket on her arm, and in this
+basket were to be flowers, not made out of complete shells, but out of
+particles of sea-shells of rainbow colors.
+
+What laughter, what exultation there was over the shepherd and
+shepherdess! How in imagination they surpassed the fascinations of
+Dresden china figures. And the price at which they were to be sold was
+settled. Nothing under a pound would be accepted, and that would be
+inadequate to represent the value of such a monument of skill and
+patience! The shepherd and shepherdess would have to be kept under
+glass bells, on a drawing-room mantel-shelf.
+
+Judith's life had hitherto been passed between her thoughtful,
+cultured father and her thoughtless, infantile brother. In some
+particulars she was old for her age, but in others she was younger
+than her years. As the companion of her father, she had gained powers
+of reasoning, a calmness in judging, and a shrewdness of sense which
+is unusual in a girl of eighteen. But as also the associate of Jamie
+in his play, she had a childish delight in the simplest amusements,
+and a readiness to shake off all serious thought and fretting care in
+an instant, and to accommodate herself to the simplicity of her
+brother.
+
+Thus--a child with a child--Judith and Jamie were on the common one
+windy, showery day, collecting shells, laughing, chattering, rejoicing
+over choice snail-shells, as though neither had passed through a wave
+of trouble, as though life lay serene before them.
+
+Judith had no experience of the world. With her natural wit and
+feminine instinct she had discovered that Cruel Coppinger loved her.
+She had also no hesitation in deciding that he must be repulsed.
+Should he seek her, she must avoid him. They could not possibly unite
+their lives. She had told him this, and there the matter ended. He
+must swallow his disappointment, and think no more about her. No one
+could have everything he wanted. Other people had to put up with
+rejection, why not Coppinger? It might be salutary to him to find that
+he could not have his way in all things. So she argued, and then she
+put aside from her all thought of the Captain, and gave herself up to
+consideration of snail-shell boxes, baskets, and shepherds and
+shepherdesses.
+
+Jamie was developing a marvellous aptitude for bird-stuffing. Mr.
+Menaida had told Judith repeatedly that if the boy would stick to it,
+he might become as skilful as himself. He would be most happy,
+thankful to be able to pass over to him some of the work that
+accumulated, and which he could not execute. "I am not a professional;
+I am an amateur. I only stuff birds to amuse my leisure moments.
+Provokingly enough, gentlemen do not believe this. They write to me as
+if I were a tradesman, laying their commands upon me, and I resent it.
+I have a small income of my own, and am not forced to slave for my
+bread and 'baccy. Now, if Jamie will work with me and help me, I will
+cheerfully share profits with him. I must be director--that is
+understood."
+
+But it was very doubtful whether poor Jamie could be taught to apply
+himself regularly to the work, and that under a desultory master, who
+could not himself remain at a task many minutes without becoming
+exhausted and abandoning it. Jamie could be induced to work only by
+being humored. He loved praise. He must be coaxed and flattered to
+undertake any task that gave trouble. Fortunately, taxidermy did not
+require any mental effort, and it was the straining of his imperfect
+mental powers that irritated and exhausted the boy.
+
+With a little cajolery he might be got to do as much as did Uncle
+Zachie, and if Mr. Menaida were as good as his word--and there could
+be little doubt that so kind, amiable, and honorable a man would be
+that--Jamie would really earn a good deal of money. Judith also hoped
+to earn more with her shell-work, and together she trusted they would
+be able to support themselves without further tax on Miss Trevisa.
+
+And what a childish pleasure they found in scheming their future, what
+they would do with their money, where they would take a house, how
+furnish it! They laughed over their schemes, and their pulses
+fluttered at the delightful pictures they conjured up. And all their
+rosy paradise was to rise out of the proceeds of stuffed birds and
+snail-shell chimney ornaments.
+
+"Ju! come here, Ju!" cried Jamie.
+
+Then again impatiently, "Ju! come here, Ju!"
+
+"What is it, dear?"
+
+"Here is the very house for us. Do come and see."
+
+On the down, nestled against a wall that had once enclosed a garden,
+but was now ruinous, stood a cottage. It was built of wreck-timber,
+thatched with heather and bracken, and with stones laid on the
+thatching, which was bound with ropes, as protection against the wind.
+A quaint, small house, with little windows under the low eaves; one
+story high, the window-frames painted white; the glass frosted with
+salt blown from the sea, so that it was impossible to look through the
+small panes, and discover what was within. The door had a gable over
+it, and the centre of the gable was occupied by a figure-head of
+Othello. The Moor of Venice was black and well battered by storm, so
+that the paint was washed and bitten off him. There was a strong brick
+chimney in the midst of the roof, but no smoke issued from it, nor had
+the house the appearance of being inhabited. There were no blinds to
+the windows, there were no crocks, no drying linen about the house; it
+had a deserted look, and yet was in good repair.
+
+"Oh, Ju!" said Jamie, "we will live here. Will it not be fun? And I
+shall have a gun and shoot birds."
+
+"Whose house can it be?" asked Judith.
+
+"I don't know. Ju, the door is open; shall we go in?"
+
+"No, Jamie, we have no right there."
+
+A little gate was in the wall, and Judith looked through. There had at
+one time certainly been a garden there, but it had been neglected, and
+allowed to be overrun with weeds. Roses, escallonica, and lavender had
+grown in untrimmed luxuriance. Marigolds rioted over the space like a
+weed. Pinks flourished, loving the sandy soil, but here and there the
+rude blue thistle had intruded and asserted its right to the
+sea-border land as its indigenous home.
+
+Down came the rain, so lashing that Judith was constrained to seek
+shelter, and, in spite of her protest that she had no right to enter
+Othello Cottage, she passed the threshold.
+
+No one was within but Jamie, who had not attended to her objection;
+led by curiosity, and excusing himself by the rain, he had opened the
+door and gone inside.
+
+The house was unoccupied, and yet was not in a condition of neglect
+and decay. If no one lived there, yet certainly some one visited it,
+for it had not that mouldy atmosphere that pervades a house long shut
+up, nor were dust and sand deep on floor and table. There was
+furniture, though scanty. The hearth showed traces of having had a
+fire in it at no very distant period. There were benches. There were
+even tinder-box and candle on the mantle-shelf.
+
+Jamie was in high excitement and delight. This was the ogre's cottage
+to which Jack had climbed up the bean-stalk. He was sure to find
+somewhere the hen that laid golden eggs, and the harp that played of
+itself.
+
+Judith seated herself on one of the benches and sorted her shells,
+leaving Jamie to amuse himself. As the house was uninhabited, it did
+not seem to her that any gross impropriety existed in allowing him to
+run in and out and peep round the rooms, and into the corners.
+
+"Judith," he exclaimed, coming to her from an adjoining room, "there
+is a bed in here, and there are crooks in the wall!"
+
+"What are the crooks for, dear?"
+
+"For climbing, I think."
+
+Then he ran back, and she saw no more of him for a while, but heard
+him scrambling.
+
+She rose and went to the door into the adjoining apartment to see that
+he was after no mischief. She found that this apartment was intended
+for sleeping in. There was a bedstead with a mattress on it, but no
+clothes. Jamie had found some crooks in the wall, and was scrambling
+up these, with hands and feet, toward the ceiling, where she perceived
+an opening, apparently into the attic.
+
+"Oh, Jamie! what are you doing there?"
+
+"Ju, I want to see whether there is anything between the roof and the
+ceiling. There may be the harp there, or the hen that lays golden
+eggs."
+
+"The shower is nearly over; I shall not wait for you."
+
+She seated herself on the bed and watched him. He thrust open a
+sliding board, and crawled through into the attic. He would soon tire
+of exploring among the rafters, and would return dirty, and have to
+be cleared of cobwebs and dust. But it amused the boy. He was ever
+restless, and she would find it difficult to keep him occupied sitting
+by her below till the rain ceased, so she allowed him to scramble and
+search as he pleased. Very few minutes had passed before Judith heard
+a short cough in the main room, and she at once rose and stepped back
+into it to apologize for her intrusion. To her great surprise she
+found her aunt there, at the little window, measuring it.
+
+"A couple of yards will do--double width," said Miss Trevisa.
+
+"Auntie!" exclaimed Judith. "Who ever would have thought of seeing you
+here?"
+
+Miss Trevisa turned sharply round, and her lips tightened.
+
+"And who would have thought of seeing you here," she answered, curtly.
+
+"Auntie, the rain came on; I ran in here so as not to be wet through.
+To whom does this house belong?"
+
+"To the master--to whom else? Captain Coppinger."
+
+"Are you measuring the window for blinds for him?"
+
+"I am measuring for blinds, but not for him."
+
+"But--who lives here?"
+
+"No one as yet."
+
+"Is any one coming to live here?"
+
+"Yes--I am."
+
+"Oh, auntie! and are we to come here with you?"
+
+Miss Trevisa snorted, and stiffened her back.
+
+"Are you out of your senses, like Jamie, to ask such a question? What
+is the accommodation here? Two little bedrooms, one large kitchen, and
+a lean-to for scullery--that is all--a fine roomy mansion for three
+people indeed!"
+
+"But, auntie, are you leaving the Glaze?"
+
+"Yes, I am. Have you any objection to that?"
+
+"No, aunt, only I am surprised. And Captain Cruel lets you have this
+dear little cottage?"
+
+"As to its being dear, I don't know, I am to have it; and that is how
+you have found it open to poke and pry into. I came up to look round
+and about me, and then found I had not brought my measuring tape with
+me, so I returned home for that, and you found the door open and
+thrust yourself in."
+
+"I am very sorry if I have given you annoyance."
+
+"Oh, it's no annoyance to me. The place is not mine yet."
+
+"But when do you come here, Aunt Dunes?"
+
+"When?" Miss Trevisa looked at her niece with a peculiar expression in
+her hard face that Judith noticed, but could not interpret. "That,"
+said Miss Trevisa, "I do not know yet."
+
+"I suppose you will do up that dear little garden," said Judith.
+
+Miss Trevisa did not vouchsafe an answer; she grunted, and resumed her
+measuring.
+
+"Has this cottage been vacant for long, auntie?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But, auntie, some one comes here. It is not quite deserted."
+
+Miss Trevisa said to herself, "Four times two and one breadth torn in
+half to allow for folds will do it. Four times two is eight, and one
+breadth more is ten."
+
+Just then Jamie appeared, shyly peeping through the door. He had heard
+his aunt's voice, and was afraid to show himself. Her eye, however,
+observed him, and in a peremptory tone she ordered him to come
+forward.
+
+But Jamie would not obey her willingly, and he deemed it best for him
+to make a dash through the kitchen to the open front door.
+
+"That boy!" growled Miss Trevisa, "I'll be bound he has been at
+mischief."
+
+"Auntie, I think the rain has ceased, I will say good-by."
+
+Then Judith left the cottage.
+
+"Ju," said Jamie, when he was with his sister beyond earshot of the
+aunt, "such fun--I have something to tell you."
+
+"What is it, Jamie?"
+
+"I won't tell you till we get home."
+
+"Oh, Jamie, not till we get back to Polzeath?"
+
+"Well, not till we get half-way home--to the white gate. Then I will
+tell you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+JAMIE'S RIDE.
+
+
+"Now, Jamie! the white gate."
+
+"The white gate!--what about that?" He had forgotten his promise.
+
+"You have a secret to tell me."
+
+Then the boy began to laugh and to tap his pockets.
+
+"What do you think, Ju! look what I have found. Do you know what is in
+the loft of the cottage we were in? There are piles of tobacco, all up
+hidden away in the dark under the rafters. I have got my pockets
+stuffed as full as they will hold. It is for Uncle Zachie. Won't he be
+pleased?"
+
+"Oh, Jamie! you should not have done that."
+
+"Why not? Don't scold, Ju!"
+
+"It is stealing."
+
+"No, it is not. No one lives there."
+
+"Nevertheless it belongs to some one, by whatever means it was got,
+and for whatever purpose stowed away there. You had no right to touch
+it."
+
+"Then why do you take snail-shells?"
+
+"They belong to no one, no one values them. It is other with this
+tobacco. Give it up. Take it back again."
+
+"What--to Aunt Dunes? I daren't, she's so cross."
+
+"Well, give it to me, and I will take it to her. She is now at the
+cottage, and the tobacco can be replaced."
+
+"Oh, Ju, I should like to see her scramble up the wall!"
+
+"I do not think she will do that; but she will contrive somehow to
+have the tobacco restored. It is not yours, and I believe it belongs
+to Captain Cruel. If it be not given back now he may hear of it and be
+very angry."
+
+"He would beat me," said the boy, hastily emptying his pockets. "I'd
+rather have Aunt Dunes' jaw than Captain Cruel's stick." He gave the
+tobacco to his sister, but he was not in a good humor. He did not see
+the necessity for restoring it. But Jamie never disobeyed his sister,
+when they were alone, and she was determined with him. Before others
+he tried to display his independence, by feeble defiances never long
+maintained, and ending in a reconciliation with tears and kisses, and
+promises of submission without demur for the future. With all, even
+the most docile children, there occur epochs when they try their
+wings, strut and ruffle their plumes, and crow very loud--epochs of
+petulance or boisterous outbreak of self-assertion in the face of
+their guides and teachers. If the latter be firm, the trouble passes
+away to be renewed at a future period till manhood or womanhood is
+reached, and then guide and teacher who is wise falls back, lays down
+control, and lets the pupils have their own way. But if at the first
+attempts at mastery, those in authority, through indifference or
+feebleness or folly, give way, then the fate of the children is
+sealed, they are spoiled for ever.
+
+Jamie had his rebellious fits, and they were distressing to Judith,
+but she never allowed herself to be conquered. She evaded provoking
+them whenever possible; and as much as possible led him by his
+affection. He had a very tender heart, was devotedly attached to his
+sister, and appeals to his better nature were usually successful, not
+always immediately, but in the long run.
+
+Her association with Jamie had been of benefit to Judith; it had
+strengthened her character. She had been forced from earliest
+childhood to be strong where he was weak, to rule because he was
+incapable of ruling himself. This had nurtured in her a decision of
+mind, a coolness of judgment, and an inflexibility of purpose unusual
+in a girl of her years.
+
+Judith walked to Othello Cottage, carrying the tobacco in her skirt,
+held up by both hands; and Jamie sauntered back to Polzeath, carrying
+his sister's basket of shells, stopping at intervals to add to the
+collection, then ensconcing himself in a nook of the hedge to watch a
+finch, a goldhammer, or a blackbird, then stopped to observe and
+follow a beetle of gorgeous metallic hues that was running across the
+path.
+
+Presently he emerged into the highway, the parish road; there was no
+main road in those parts maintained by toll-gates, and then observed a
+gig approach in which sat two men, one long and narrow-faced, the
+other tall, but stout and round-faced. He recognized the former at
+once as Mr. Scantlebray, the appraiser. Mr. Scantlebray, who was
+driving, nudged his companion, and with the butt-end of the whip
+pointed to the boy.
+
+"Heigh! hi-up! Gaffer!" called Mr. Scantlebray, flapping his arms
+against his sides, much as does a cock with his wings. "Come along; I
+have something of urgent importance to say to you--something so good
+that it will make you squeak; something so delicious that it will make
+your mouth water."
+
+This was addressed to Jamie, as the white mare leisurely trotted up to
+where the boy stood. Then Scantlebray drew up, with his elbows at
+right angles to his trunk.
+
+"Here's my brother thirsting, ravening to make your acquaintance--and,
+by George! you are in luck's way, young hopeful, to make his. Obadiah!
+this here infant is an orphing. Orphing! this is Obadiah Scantlebray,
+whom I call Scanty because he is fat. Jump up, will y', into the gig."
+
+Jamie looked vacantly about him. He had an idea that he ought to wait
+for Judith or go directly home. But she had not forbidden him to have
+a ride, and a ride was what he dearly loved.
+
+"Are you coming?" asked Scantlebray; "or do you need a more
+ceremonious introduction to Mr. Obadiah, eh?"
+
+"I've got a basket of shells," said Jamie. "They belong to Ju."
+
+"Well, put Ju's basket in--the shells won't hurt--and then in with
+you. There's a nice little portmantle in front, on which you can sit
+and look us in the face, and if you don't tumble off with laughing, it
+will be because I strap you in. My brother is the very comicalest
+fellow in Cornwall. It's a wonder I haven't died of laughter. I should
+have, but our paths diverged; he took up the medical line, and I the
+valuation and all that, so my life was saved. Are you comfortable
+there?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Jamie, seated himself where advised.
+
+"Now for the strap round ye," said Scantlebray. "Don't be alarmed;
+it's to hold you together, lest you split your sides with merriment,
+and to hold you in, lest you tumble overboard convulsed with
+laughter. That brother of mine is the killingest man in Great
+Britain. Look at his face. Bless me! in church I should explode when I
+saw him, but that I am engrossed in my devotions. On with you, Juno!"
+
+That to the gray mare, and a whip applied to make the gray mare trot
+along, which she did, with her head down lost in thought, or as if
+smelling the road, to make sure that she was on the right track.
+
+"'Tisn't what he says," remarked Mr. Scantlebray, seeing a questioning
+expression on Jamie's innocent face, "it's the looks of him. And when
+he speaks--well, it's the way he says it more than what he says. I was
+at a Charity Trust dinner, and Obadiah said to the waiter, 'Cutlets,
+please!' The fellow dropped the dish, and I stuffed my napkin into my
+mouth, ran out, and went into a fit. Now, Scanty, show the young
+gentleman how to make a rabbit."
+
+Then Mr. Scantlebray tickled up the mare with the lash of his whip,
+cast some objurgations at a horse-fly that was hovering and then
+darting at Juno.
+
+Mr. Obadiah drew forth a white but very crumpled kerchief from his
+pocket, and proceeded to fold it on his lap.
+
+"Just look at him," said the agent, "doing it in spite of the motion
+of the gig. It's wonderful. But his face is the butchery. I can't look
+at it for fear of letting go the reins."
+
+The roads were unfrequented; not a person was passing as the party
+jogged along. Mr. Scantlebray hissed to the mare between his front
+teeth, which were wide apart; then, turning his eye sideways, observed
+what his brother was about.
+
+"That's his carcase," said he, in reference to the immature rabbit.
+
+Then a man was sighted coming along the road, humming a tune. It was
+Mr. Menaida.
+
+"How are you? Compliments to the young lady orphing, and say we're
+jolly--all three," shouted Scantlebray, urging his mare to a faster
+pace, and keeping her up to it till they had turned a corner, and
+Menaida was no more in sight.
+
+"Just look at his face, as he's a folding of that there
+pockyhandkercher," said the appraiser. "It's exploding work."
+
+Jamie looked into the stolid features of Mr. Obadiah, and
+laughed--laughed heartily, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.
+Not that he saw aught humorous there, but that he was told it was
+there, he ought to see it, and would be a fool if he were not
+convulsed by it.
+
+Precisely the same thing happens with us. We look at and go into
+raptures over a picture, because it is by a Royal Academician who has
+been knighted on account of his brilliant successes. We are charmed at
+a cantata, stifling our yawns, because we are told by the art critics
+who are paid to puff it, that we are fools, and have no ears if we do
+not feel charmed by it. We rush to read a new novel, and find it
+vastly clever, because an eminent statesman has said on a postcard it
+has pleased him.
+
+We laugh when told to laugh, condemn when told to condemn, and would
+stand on our heads if informed that it was bad for us to walk on our
+feet.
+
+"There!" said Mr. Scantlebray, the valuer. "Them's ears."
+
+"Crrrh!" went Mr. Obadiah, and the handkerchief, converted into a
+white bunny, shot from his hand up his sleeve.
+
+"I can't drive, 'pon my honor; I'm too ill. You have done me for
+to-day," said Scantlebray the elder, the valuer. "Now, young hopeful,
+what say you? Will you make a rabbit, also? I'll give you a shilling
+if you will."
+
+Thereupon Jamie took the kerchief and spread it out, and began to fold
+it. Whenever he went wrong Mr. Obadiah made signs, either by elevation
+of his brows and a little shake of his head, or by pointing, and his
+elder brother caught him at it and protested. Obadiah was the drollest
+fellow, he was incorrigible, as full of mischief as an egg is full of
+meat. There was no trusting him for a minute when the eye was off him.
+
+"Come, Scanty! I'll put you on your honor. Look the other way." But a
+moment after--"Ah, for shame! there you are at it again. Young
+hopeful, you see what a vicious brother I have; perfectly
+untrustworthy, but such a comical dog. Full of tricks up to the ears.
+You should see him make shadows on the wall. He can represent a pig
+eating out of a trough. You see the ears flap, the jaws move, the eye
+twinkle in appreciation of the barley-meal. It is to the life, and all
+done by the two hands--by one, I may say, for the other serves as
+trough. What! Done the rabbit! First rate! Splendid! Here is the
+shilling. But, honor bright, you don't deserve it; that naughty Scanty
+helped you."
+
+"Please," said Jamie, timidly, "may I get out now and go home?"
+
+"Go home! What for?"
+
+"I want to show Ju my shilling."
+
+"By ginger! that is too rich. Not a bit of it. Do you know Mistress
+Polgrean's sweetie shop?"
+
+"But that's at Wadebridge."
+
+"At Wadebridge; and why not? You will spend your shilling there. But
+look at my brother. It is distressing; his eyes are alight at the
+thoughts of the tartlets, and the sticks of peppermint sugar, and the
+almond rock. Are you partial to almond rock, orphin?"
+
+Jamie's mind was at once engaged.
+
+"Which is it to be? Gingerbreads or tartlets, almond rock or
+barley-sugar?"
+
+"I think I'll have the peppermint," said Jamie.
+
+"Then peppermint it shall be. And you will give me a little bit, and
+Scanty a bit, and take a little bit home to Ju, eh?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"He'll take a little bit home to Ju, Obadiah, old man."
+
+The funny brother nodded.
+
+"And the basket of shells?" asked the elder.
+
+"Yes, she is making little boxes with them to sell," said Jamie.
+
+"I suppose I may have the privilege of buying some," said Mr.
+Scantlebray, senior. "Oh, look at that brother of mine! How he is
+screwing his nose about! I say, old man, are you ill? Upon my life, I
+believe he is laughing."
+
+Presently Jamie got restless.
+
+"Please, Mr. Scantlebray, may I get out? Ju will be frightened at my
+being away so long."
+
+"Poor Ju!" said Scantlebray, the elder. "But no--don't you worry your
+mind about that. We passed Uncle Zachie, and he will tell her where
+you are, in good hands, or rather, nipped between most reliable
+knees--my brother's and mine. Sit still. I can't stop Juno; we're
+going down-hill now, and if I stopped Juno she would fall. You must
+wait--wait till we get to Mrs. Polgrean's." Then, after chuckling-to
+himself, Scantlebray, senior, said: "Obadiah, old man, I wonder what
+Missie Ju is thinking? I wonder what she will say, eh?" Again he
+chuckled. "No place in your establishment for that party, eh?"
+
+The outskirts of Wadebridge were reached.
+
+"Now may I get out?" said Jamie.
+
+"Bless my heart! Not yet. Wait for Mrs. Polgrean's."
+
+But presently Mrs. Polgrean's shop-window was passed.
+
+"Oh, stop! stop!" cried Jamie. "We have gone by the sweetie shop."
+
+"Of course we have," answered Scantlebray, senior. "I daren't trust
+that brother of mine in there; he has such a terrible sweet tooth.
+Besides, I want you to see the pig eating out of the trough. It will
+kill you. If it don't I'll give you another shilling."
+
+Presently he drew up at the door of a stiff, square-built house, with
+a rambling wing thrown out on one side. It was stuccoed and painted
+drab--drab walls, drab windows, and drab door.
+
+"Now, then, young man," said Scantlebray, cheerily, "I'll unbuckle the
+strap and let you out. You come in with me. This is my brother's
+mansion, roomy, pleasant, and comprehensive. You shall have a dish of
+tea."
+
+"And then I may go home?"
+
+"And then--we shall see; shan't we, Obadiah, old man?"
+
+They entered the hall, and the door was shut and fastened behind them;
+then into a somewhat dreary room, with red flock paper on the walls,
+no pictures, leather-covered, old, mahogany chairs, and a book or two
+on the table--one of these a Bible.
+
+Jamie looked wonderingly about him, a little disposed to cry. He was a
+long way from Polzeath, and Judith would be waiting for him and
+anxious, and the place into which he was ushered was not cheery, not
+inviting.
+
+"Now, then," said Mr. Scantlebray, "young hopeful, give me my
+shilling."
+
+"Please, I'm going to buy some peppermint and burnt almonds for Ju and
+me as I go back."
+
+"Oh, indeed! But suppose you do not have the chance?"
+
+Jamie looked vacantly in his face, then into that of the stolid
+brother, who was not preparing to show him the pig feeding out of a
+trough, nor was he calling for tea.
+
+"Come," said Scantlebray, the elder; "suppose I take charge of that
+shilling till you have the chance of spending it, young man."
+
+"Please, I'll spend it now."
+
+"Not a bit. You won't have the chance. Do you know where you are!"
+
+Jamie looked round in distress. He was becoming frightened at the
+altered tone of the valuer.
+
+"My dear," said Mr. Scantlebray, "you're now an honorable inmate of my
+brother's Establishment for Idiots, which you don't leave till cured
+of imbecility. That shilling, if you please?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+ALL IS FOR THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS.
+
+
+Judith returned to the cottage of Mr. Menaida, troubled in mind, for
+Aunt Dunes had been greatly incensed at the taking of the tobacco by
+Jamie, and not correspondingly gratified by the return of it so
+promptly by Judith. Miss Trevisa was a woman who magnified and
+resented any wrong done, but minimized and passed over as unworthy of
+notice whatever was generous, and every attempt made to repay an evil.
+Such attempts not only met with no favor from her, but were perverted
+in her crabbed mind into fresh affronts or injuries. That the theft of
+Jamie would not have been discovered had not Judith spoken of it and
+brought back what had been taken, was made of no account by Aunt
+Dionysia; she attacked Judith with sharp reproach for allowing the boy
+to be mischievous, for indulging him and suffering him to run into
+danger through his inquisitiveness and thoughtlessness. "For," said
+Aunt Dionysia, "had the master or any of his men found out what Jamie
+had done there is no telling how he might have been served." Then she
+had muttered: "If you will not take precautions, other folk must, and
+the boy must be put where he can be properly looked after and kept
+from interfering with the affairs of others."
+
+On reaching Mr. Menaida's cottage, Judith called her brother, but as
+she did not receive an answer, she went in quest of him, and was met
+by the servant, Jump. "If you please, miss," said Jump, "there's been
+two gen'lemen here, as said they was come from Mrs. Trevisa, and said
+they was to pack and take off Master Jamie's clothes. And please miss,
+I didn't know what to do--they was gen'lemen, and the master--he was
+out, and you was out, miss--and Master Jamie, he wasn't to home
+n'other."
+
+"Taken Jamie's clothes!" repeated Judith, in amazement.
+
+"Yes, miss, they brought a portmantle a-purpose; and they'd a gig at
+the door; and they spoke uncommon pleasant, leastwise one o' them
+did."
+
+"And where is Jamie? Has he not come home?"
+
+"No, miss."
+
+At that moment Mr. Menaida came in.
+
+"What is it, Judith? Jamie? Where Jamie is?--why, having a ride,
+seated between the two Scantlebrays, in their gig. That is where he
+is."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Menaida, but they have taken his clothes!"
+
+"Whose clothes?"
+
+"Jamie's."
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"The two gentlemen came to this house when you and I were out, and
+told Jump that they were empowered by my aunt to pack up and carry off
+all Jamie's clothing, which they put into a portmanteau they had
+brought with them."
+
+"And then picked up Jamie. He was sitting on the portmanteau," said
+Uncle Zachie; then his face became grave. "They said that they acted
+under authority from Mrs. Trevisa?"
+
+"So Jump says."
+
+"It can surely not be that he has been moved to the asylum."
+
+"Asylum, Mr. Menaida?"
+
+"The idiot asylum."
+
+Judith uttered a cry, and staggered back against the wall.
+
+"Jamie! my brother Jamie!"
+
+"Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray has such a place at Wadebridge."
+
+"But Jamie is not an idiot."
+
+"Your aunt authorized them--," mused Uncle Zachie. "Humph! you should
+see her about it. That is the first step, and ascertain whether she
+has done it, or whether they are acting with a high hand for
+themselves. I'll look at my law-books--if the latter it would be
+actionable."
+
+Judith did not hesitate for a moment. She hastened to Pentyre. That
+her aunt had left Othello Cottage she was pretty sure, as she was
+preparing to leave it when Judith returned with the tobacco.
+Accordingly she took the road to Pentyre at once. Tears of shame and
+pain welled up in her eyes at the thought of her darling brother
+being beguiled away to be locked up among the imbecile in a private
+establishment for the insane. Then her heart was contracted with anger
+and resentment at the scurvy trick played on her and him: She did not
+know that the Scantlebrays had been favored by pure accident. She
+conceived that men base enough to carry off her brother would watch
+and wait for the opportunity when to do it unobserved and unopposed.
+She hardly walked. She ran till her breath failed her, and the rapid
+throbbing of her heart would no longer allow her to run. Her dread of
+approaching the Glaze after the declaration made by Captain Cruel was
+overwhelmed in her immediate desire to know something about Jamie, in
+her anguish of fear for him. On Coppinger she did not cast a
+thought--her mind was so fully engrossed in her brother.
+
+She saw nothing of the Captain. She entered the house, and proceeded
+at once to her aunt's apartment. She found Miss Trevisa there, seated
+near the window, engaged on some chintz that she thought would do for
+the window at Othello Cottage, when she took possession of it. She had
+measured the piece, found that it was suitable, and was turning down a
+hem and tacking it. It was a pretty chintz, covered with sprigs of
+nondescript pink and blue flowers.
+
+Judith burst in on her, breathless, her brow covered with dew, her
+bosom heaving, her face white with distress, and tears standing on her
+eyelashes. She threw herself on her knees before Miss Trevisa, half
+crying out and half sobbing:
+
+"Oh, aunt! they have taken him!"
+
+"Who have taken whom?" asked the elderly lady, coldly.
+
+She raised her eyes and cast a look full of malevolence at Judith. She
+never had, did not, never would feel toward that girl as a niece. She
+hated her for her mother's sake, and now she felt an unreasonable
+bitterness against her, because she had fascinated Coppinger--perhaps,
+also, because in a dim fashion she was aware that she herself was
+acting toward the child in an unworthy, unmerciful manner, and we all
+hate those whom we wrong.
+
+"Auntie! tell me it is not so. Mr. Scantlebray and his brother have
+carried my darling Jamie away."
+
+"Well, and what of that!"
+
+"But--will they let me have him back?"
+
+Miss Trevisa pulled at the chintz. "I will trouble you not to crumple
+this," she said.
+
+"Aunt! dear aunt! you did not tell Mr. Scantlebray to take Jamie away
+from me?"
+
+The old lady did not answer, she proceeded to release the material at
+which she was engaged from under the knees of Judith. The girl, in her
+vehemence, put her hands to her aunt's arms, between the elbows and
+shoulders, and held and pressed them back, and with imploring eyes
+looked into her hard face.
+
+"Oh, auntie! you never sent Jamie to an asylum?"
+
+"I must beg you to let go my arms," said Miss Trevisa. "This conduct
+strikes me as most indecorous toward one of my age and relationship."
+
+She avoided Judith's eye, her brow wrinkled, and her lips contracted.
+The gall in her heart rose and overflowed.
+
+"I am not ashamed of what I have done."
+
+"Auntie!" with a cry of pain. Then Judith let go the old lady's arms,
+and clasped her hands over her eyes.
+
+"Really," said Miss Trevisa, with asperity, "you are a most
+exasperating person. I shall do with the boy what I see fit. You know
+very well that he is a thief."
+
+"He never took anything before to-day--never--and you had settled this
+before you knew about the tobacco!" burst from Judith, in anger and
+with floods of tears.
+
+"I knew that he has always been troublesome and mischievous, and he
+must be placed where he can be properly managed by those accustomed to
+such cases."
+
+"There is nothing the matter with Jamie."
+
+"You have humored and spoiled him. If he is such a plague to all who
+know him, it is because he has been treated injudiciously. He is now
+with men who are experienced, and able to deal with the like of
+Jamie."
+
+"Aunt, he must not be there. I promised my papa to be ever with him,
+and to look after him."
+
+"Then it is a pity your father did not set this down in writing.
+Please to remember that I, and not you, am constituted his guardian,
+by the terms of the will."
+
+"Oh, aunt! aunt! let him come back to me!"
+
+Miss Trevisa shook her head.
+
+"Then let me go to him!"
+
+"Hoity-toity! here's airs and nonsense. Really, Judith, you are almost
+imbecile enough to qualify for the asylum. But I cannot afford the
+cost of you both. Jamie's cost in that establishment will be £70 in
+the year, and how much do you suppose that you possess?"
+
+Judith remained kneeling upright, with her hands clasped, looking
+earnestly through her tears at her aunt.
+
+"You have in all, between you, but £45 or £50. When the dilapidations
+are paid, and the expenses of the funeral, and the will-proving, and
+all that, I do not suppose you will be found to have a thousand pounds
+between you, and that put out to interest will not bring you more than
+I have said; so I shall have to make up the deficiency. That is not
+pleasing to me, you may well suppose. But I had rather pay £25 out of
+my poor income, than have the name of the family disgraced by Jamie."
+
+"Jamie will never, never disgrace the name. He is too good. And--it is
+wicked, it is cruel to put him where you have. He is not an idiot."
+
+"I am perhaps a better judge than you; so also is Mr. Obadiah
+Scantlebray, who has devoted his life to the care and study of the
+imbecile. Your brother has weak intellects."
+
+"He is not clever; that is all. With application----"
+
+"He cannot apply his mind. He has no mind that can be got to be
+applied."
+
+"Aunt, he's no idiot. He must not be kept in that place."
+
+"You had best go back to Polzeath. I have decided on what I considered
+right. I have done my duty."
+
+"It cannot be just. I will see what Mr. Menaida says. He must be
+released; if you will not let him out, I will."
+
+Miss Trevisa looked up at her quickly between her half-closed lids; a
+bitter, cruel smile quivered about her lips. "If any one can deliver
+him, it will be you."
+
+Judith did not understand her meaning, and Aunt Dionysia did not care
+at that time to further enlighten her thereon. Finding her aunt
+inflexible, the unhappy girl left Pentyre Glaze and hurried back to
+Polzeath, where she implored Mr. Menaida to accompany her to
+Wadebridge. Go there she would--she must--that same evening. If he
+would not attend her, she would go alone. She could not rest, she
+could not remain in the house, till she had been to the place where
+Jamie was, and seen whether she could not release him thence by her
+entreaties, her urgency.
+
+Mr. Menaida shook his head. But he was a kind-hearted old man, and was
+distressed at the misery of the girl, and would not hear of her making
+the expedition alone, as she could not well return before dark. So he
+assumed his rough and shabby beaver hat, put on his best cravat, and
+sallied forth with Judith upon her journey to Wadebridge, one that he
+assured her must be fruitless, and had better be postponed till the
+morrow.
+
+"I cannot! I cannot!" she cried. "I cannot sleep, thinking of my
+darling brother in that dreadful place, with such people about him, he
+crying, frightened, driven mad by the strangeness of it all, and being
+away from me. I must go. If I cannot save him and bring him back with
+me, I can see him and console him, and bid him wait in patience and
+hope."
+
+Mr. Menaida with a soft heart and a weak will, was hung about with
+scraps of old-world polish, scraps only. In him nothing was
+complete--here and there a bare place of rustic uncouthness, there
+patches of velvet courtesy of the Queen Anne age; so, also, was he
+made up of fine culture, of classic learning alternating with boorish
+ignorance--here high principle, there none at all--a picture worked to
+a miniature in points, and in others rudely roughed in and neglected.
+Now he was moved as he had not been moved for years by the manifest
+unhappiness of the girl, and he was willing to do his utmost to assist
+her, but that utmost consisted in little more than accompanying her to
+Wadebridge and ringing at the house-bell of Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray's
+establishment. When it came to the interview that ensued with the
+proprietor of the establishment and jailer of Jamie, he failed
+altogether. Judith and Uncle Zachie were shown into the dreary parlor
+without ornaments, and presently to them entered Mr. Obadiah.
+
+"Oh, sir, is he here?--have you got Jamie here?"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray nodded his head, then went to the door and knocked
+with his fists against the wall. A servant maid appeared. "Send
+missus," said he, and returned to the parlor.
+
+Again Judith entreated to be told if her brother were there with all
+the vehemence and fervor of her tattered heart.
+
+Mr. Obadiah listened with stolid face and vacant eyes that turned from
+her to Mr. Menaida, and then back to her again. Presently an idea
+occurred to him and his face brightened. He went to a sideboard,
+opened a long drawer, brought out a large book, thrust it before
+Judith, and said, "Pictures." Then, as she took no notice of the book,
+he opened it.
+
+"Oh, please sir," pleaded Judith, "I don't want that. I want to know
+about Jamie. I want to see him."
+
+Then in at the door came a lady in black silk, with small curls about
+her brow. She was stout, but not florid.
+
+"What!" said she, "my dear, are you the young lady whose brother is
+here? Don't you fret yourself. He is as comfortable as a chick in a
+feathered nest. Don't you worry your little self about him now. Now
+your good days have begun. He will not be a trouble and anxiety to you
+any more. He is well cared for. I dare be sworn he has given you many
+an hour of anxiety. Now, O be joyful! that is over, and you can dance
+and play with a light heart. I have lifted the load off you, I and Mr.
+Scantlebray. Here he will be very comfortable and perfectly happy. I
+spare no pains to make my pets snug, and Scantlebray is inexhaustible
+in his ability to amuse them. He has a way with these innocents that
+is quite marvellous. Wait a while--give him and me a trial, and see
+what the result is. You may believe me as one of long and tried
+experience. It never does for amateurs--for relations--to undertake
+these cases; they don't know when to be firm, or when to yield. We
+do--it is our profession. We have studied the half-witted."
+
+"But my brother is _not_ half-witted."
+
+"So you say, and so it becomes you to say. Never admit that there is
+imbecility or insanity in the family. You are quite right, my dear;
+you look forward to being married some day, and you know very well it
+might stand in the way of an engagement, were it supposed that you had
+idiocy in the family blood. It is quite right. I understand all that
+sort of thing. We call it nervous debility, and insanity we term
+nervous excitement. Scantlebray, my poppet, isn't it so!"
+
+Mr. Obadiah nodded.
+
+"You leave all care to us; thrust it upon our shoulders. They will
+bear it; and never doubt that your brother will be cared for in body
+and in soul. In body--always something nice and light for supper,
+tapioca, rice-pudding, batter; to-night, rolly-poly. After that,
+prayers. We don't feed high, but we feed suitably. If you like to pay
+a little extra, we will feed higher. Now, my dear, you take all as for
+the best, and rely on it everything is right."
+
+"But Jamie ought not to be locked up."
+
+"My dear, he is at school under the wisest and most experienced of
+teachers. You have mismanaged him. Now he will be treated
+professionally; and Mr. Scantlebray superintends not the studies only,
+but the amusements of the pupils. He has such a fund of humor in him."
+Obadiah at once produced his pocket-handkerchief and began to fold it.
+"No, dear, no ducky, no rabbit now! You fond thing, you! always
+thinking of giving entertainment to some one. No, nor the parson
+preaching either." He was rolling his hands together and thrusting up
+his thumb as the representative of a sacred orator in his pulpit. "No,
+ducky darling! another time. My husband is quite a godsend to the
+nervously prostrate. He can amuse them by the hour; he never wearies
+of it; he is never so happy as when he is entertaining them. You
+cannot doubt that your brother will be content in the house of such a
+man. Take my word for it; there is nothing like believing that all is
+for the best as it is. Our pupils will soon be going to bed.
+Rolly-poly and prayers, and then to bed--that is the order."
+
+"Oh, let me see Jamie now."
+
+"No, my dear. It would be injudicious. He is settling in; he is
+becoming reconciled, and it would disturb him, and undo what has
+already been done. Don't you say so, poppet?"
+
+The poppet nodded his head.
+
+"You see, this great authority agrees with me. Now, this evening
+Jamie and the others shall have an extra treat. They shall have the
+pig eating out of the trough. There--what more can you desire? As soon
+as lights are brought in, then rolly-poly, prayers, and the pig and
+the trough. Another time you shall see him. Not to-night. It is
+inadvisable. Take my word for it, your brother is as happy as a boy
+can be. He has found plenty of companions of the same condition as
+himself."
+
+"But he is _not_ an idiot."
+
+"My dear, we know all about that; very nice and sweet for you to say
+so--isn't it duckie?"
+
+The duckie agreed it was so.
+
+"There is the bell. My dear, another time. You will promise to come
+and see me again? I have had such a delightful talk with you.
+Good-night, good-night. 'All is for the best in the best of worlds.'
+Put that maxim under your head and sleep upon it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+A NIGHT EXCURSION.
+
+
+Some people are ever satisfied with what is certain to give themselves
+least trouble, especially if that something concerns other persons.
+
+Mr. Menaida was won over by the volubility of Mrs. Scantlebray and the
+placidity of Mr. Scantlebray to the conviction that Jamie was in the
+very best place he could possibly be in. A lady who called Judith "my
+dear" and her husband "duckie" must have a kindly heart, and a
+gentleman like Mr. Obadiah, so full of resources, could not fail to
+divert and gratify the minds of those under his charge, and banish
+care and sorrow. And as Mr. Menaida perceived that it would be a
+difficult matter to liberate Jamie from the establishment where he
+was, and as it was an easy matter to conclude that the establishment
+was admirably adapted to Jamie, he was content that Aunt Dionysia had
+chosen the wisest course in putting him there, and that it would be to
+the general advantage to cherish this opinion. For, in the first
+place, it would pacify Judith, and then, by pacifying her, would give
+himself none of that inconvenience, that running to and fro between
+Polzeath and Wadebridge, that consultation of law-books, that
+correspondence, that getting of toes and fingers into hot water,
+likely to result from the impatience, the unflagging eagerness of
+Judith to liberate her brother.
+
+Accordingly Uncle Zachie used his best endeavors to assure Judith that
+Jamie certainly was happy, had never been so happy in his life before,
+and that, under the treatment of so kind and experienced a man as Mr.
+Obadiah Scantlebray, there was reason to believe that in a short time
+Jamie would issue from under his tuition a light so brilliant as to
+outshine the beacon on Trevose Head.
+
+Judith was unconvinced. Love is jealous and timorous. She feared lest
+all should not be as was represented. There was an indefinable
+something in Mrs. Scantlebray that roused her suspicion. She could not
+endure that others should step into the place of responsibility toward
+Jamie she had occupied so long, and which she had so solemnly assured
+her father she would never abandon. Supposing that Scantlebray and his
+wife were amiable and considerate persons, might they not so influence
+the fickle Jamie as to displace her from his affections and insinuate
+themselves in her room?
+
+But it was not this mainly that troubled her. She was tormented with
+the thought of the lonely, nervous child in the strange house, among
+strange people, in desolation of heart and deadly fear.
+
+Whenever he had become excited during the day he was sleepless at
+night, and had to be soothed and coaxed into slumber. On such
+occasions she had been wont, with the infinite, inexhaustible patience
+of true love, to sit by his bed, pacifying his alarms, allaying his
+agitation, singing to him, stroking his hair, holding his hand, till
+his eyes closed. And how often, just as he seemed about to drop
+asleep, had he become again suddenly awake, through some terror, or
+some imagined discomfort? then all the soothing process had to be gone
+through again, and it had always been gone through without a murmur or
+an impatient word.
+
+Now Jamie was alone--or perhaps worse than alone--in a dormitory of
+idiots, whose strange ways filled him with terror, and his dull mind
+would be working to discover how he came to be there, how it was that
+his Ju was not with him. Who would lull his fears, who sing to him old
+familiar strains? Would any other hand rest on the hot brow and hold
+it down on the pillow?
+
+Judith looked up to heaven, to the stars already glimmering there. She
+was not hearkening to the talk of Uncle Zachie: she was thinking her
+own thoughts. She was indeed walking back to Polzeath; but her mind
+was nailed to that dull drab house in the suburbs of Wadebridge with
+the brass plate on the door, inscribed, "Mr. Scantlebray, Surgeon." As
+her eyes were raised to the stars, she thought of her father. He was
+above, looking down on her, and it seemed to her that in the flicker
+of the stars she saw the trouble in her father's face at the knowledge
+that his children were parted, and his poor little half-bright boy
+was fallen among those who had no love for him, might have no patience
+with his waywardness, would not make allowance for his infirmities.
+
+She sobbed, and would not be comforted by Mr. Menaida's assurances.
+Tired, foot-weary, but more tired and weary in heart and mind, she
+reached the cottage. She could not sleep; she was restless. She sought
+Jamie's room, and seated herself on the chair by his little bed, and
+sobbed far on into the night. Her head ached, as did her burning and
+blistered feet; and as she sat she dozed off, then awoke with a start,
+so distinctly did she seem to hear Jamie's voice--his familiar tone
+when in distress--crying, "Ju! Come to me, Ju!" So vividly did the
+voice sound to her that she could not for a moment or two shake off
+the conviction that she had in reality heard him. She thought that he
+must have called her. He must be unhappy. What were those people doing
+to him? Were they tormenting the poor little frightened creature? Were
+they putting him into a dark room by himself, and was he nearly mad
+with terror? Were they beating him, because he cried out in the night
+and disturbed the house?
+
+She imagined him sitting up on a hard bed, shivering with fear,
+looking round him in the dark, and screaming for her--and she could
+not help him.
+
+"Oh, Jamie!" she cried, and threw herself on her knees and put her
+hands over her eyes to shut out the horrible sight, over her ears to
+close them to the piercing cry. "They will drive him mad! Oh, papa! my
+papa! what will you say to me? Oh, my Jamie! what can I do for you?"
+
+She was half mad herself, mad with fancies, conjured up by the fever
+of distress into which she had worked herself. What could she do? She
+could not breathe in that room. She could not breathe in the house.
+She could not remain so far from Jamie--and he crying for her. His
+voice rang still in her ears. It sounded in her heart, it drew her
+irresistibly away. If she could but be outside that drab establishment
+in the still night, to listen, and hear if all were quiet within, or
+whether Jamie were calling, shrieking for her. He would cry himself
+into fits. He would become really deranged, unless he were pacified.
+Oh! those people!--she imagined they were up, not knowing what to do
+with the boy, unable to soothe him, and were now wishing that she
+were there, wishing they had not sent her away.
+
+Judith was in that condition which is one of half craze through
+brooding on her fears, through intense sympathy with the unhappy boy
+so ruthlessly spirited away, through fever of the blood, caused by
+long-protracted nervous strain, through over-weariness of mind and
+body. Jamie's distress, his need for her became an idea that laid hold
+of her, that could not be dispelled, that tortured her into
+recklessness. She could not lie on her bed, she could not rest her
+head for one moment. She ran to the window, panting, and smoked the
+glass with her burning breath, so that she could not see through it.
+
+The night was still, the sky clear, and there were stars in it. Who
+would be abroad at that time? What danger would ensue to her if she
+went out and ran back to Wadebridge? If any foot were to be heard on
+the road, she could hide. She had gone out at night in storm to save
+Cruel Coppinger--should she not go out in still starlight to aid her
+own twin-brother, if he needed her? Providence had shielded her
+before--it would shield her now.
+
+The house was quiet. Mr. Menaida had long ago gone to bed, and was
+asleep. His snores were usually audible at night through the cottage.
+Jump was asleep, sound in sleep as any hard-worked sewing-wench.
+Judith had not undressed, had not taken off her shoes; she had
+wandered, consumed by restlessness, between her own room and that of
+her brother.
+
+It was impossible for her to remain there. She felt that she would die
+of imaginings of evil unless she were near Jamie, unless there were
+naught but a wall between him and her.
+
+Judith descended the stairs and once again went forth alone into the
+night, not now to set her face seaward, but landward; before she had
+gone with a defined aim in view, to warn Coppinger of his danger, now
+she was moved by a vague suspicion of evil.
+
+The night was calm, but there was summer lightning on the horizon,
+attended by no thunder, a constant flicker, sometimes a flare, as
+though some bonfire were kindled beyond the margin of the world, that
+was being stirred and added to. The air was close.
+
+Judith had no one to look to in the world to help her and Jamie--not
+her aunt, her sole relative, it was she who had sent her brother to
+this place of restraint; not Mr. Menaida, he had not the moral courage
+and energy of purpose to succor her in her effort to release Jamie;
+not Captain Coppinger--him she dare not ask, lest he should expect too
+much in return. The hand of misfortune was heavy on the girl; if
+anything was to be done to relieve the pressure, she must do it
+herself.
+
+As she was going hastily along the lane she suddenly halted. She heard
+some one a little way before her. There was no gate near by which she
+could escape. The lane was narrow, and the hedges low, so as not to
+afford sufficient shadow to conceal her. By the red summer flashes she
+saw a man reeling toward her round the corner. His hat was on one side
+of his head, and he lurched first to one side of the lane, then to the
+other.
+
+    "There went three trav'llers over the moor--
+      Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph! said he.
+    Three trav'llers over the moor so green,
+    The one sang high, the third sang low,
+      Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph! said he,
+    And the second he trolled between."
+
+Then he stood still.
+
+"Huph! huph!" he shouted. "Some one else go on, I'm done
+for--'Ri-tiddle-de.'"
+
+He saw Judith by the starlight and by the flicker of the lightning,
+and put his head on one side and capered toward her with arms
+extended, chirping--"'Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph! said he.'"
+
+Judith started on one side, and the drunken man pursued her, but in so
+doing, stumbled, and fell sprawling on the ground. He scrambled to his
+feet again, and began to swear at her and sent after her a volley of
+foul and profane words. Had he contented himself with this it would
+have been bad enough, but he also picked up a stone and threw it.
+Judith felt a blow on her head, and the lightning flashes seemed to be
+on all sides of her, and then great black clouds to be rising like
+smoke out of the earth about her. She staggered into the hedge, and
+sank on her knees.
+
+But fear lest the tipsy ruffian should pursue her nerved her to make
+an effort to escape. She quickly rose and ran along the lane, turned
+the corner, and ran on till her feet would no longer bear her, and
+her breath failed. Then, looking back, and seeing that she was not
+followed, she seated herself, breathless, and feeling sick, in the
+hedge, where a glow-worm was shining, with a calm, steady light, very
+different from the flicker of the stars above.
+
+As she there sat, she was conscious of something warm on her neck, and
+putting her hand up, felt that it was moist. She held her fingers to
+the faint glow of the worm in the grass; there was a dark stain on her
+hand, and she was sure that it was blood.
+
+She felt her head swim, and knew that in another moment she would lose
+consciousness, unless she made an effort to resist. Hastily she bound
+a white handkerchief about her head where wounded by the stone, to
+stay the flow, and walked resolutely forward.
+
+There was now a shadow stealing up the sky to the south, and obscuring
+the stars, a shadow behind which danced and wavered the electrical
+light, but Judith heard no thunder, she had not the leisure to listen
+for it; all her anxiety was to reach Wadebridge. But the air, the
+oppressively sultry air, was charged with sound, the mutter and growl
+of the Atlantic. The ocean, never at rest, ever gives forth a voice,
+but the volume of its tone varies. Now it was loud and threatening,
+loud and threatening as it had been on that afternoon when Judith sat
+with her father in the rectory garden, tossing guelder-roses. Then,
+the air had been still, but burdened with the menace of the sea. So it
+was now at midnight; the ocean felt the influence of the distant storm
+that was playing far away to the south.
+
+Judith could not run now. Her feet were too sore, her strength had
+given way. Resolute though her will might be, it could not inspire
+with masculine strength the fragile little body, recently recovered
+from sickness. But it carried her into the suburbs of Wadebridge, and
+in the starlight she reached the house of Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray, and
+stood before it, looking up at it despairingly. It was not drab in
+color now, it was lampblack against a sky that flashed in the
+russet-light. The kerchief she had tied about her head had become
+loose. Still looking at the ugly, gloomy house, she put up her arms
+and rebound it, knotting the ends more tightly, using care not to
+cover her ears, as she was intent to hear the least sound, that
+issued from the asylum. But for some time she could hear nothing save
+the rush of her blood in her ears, foaming, hissing, like the tide
+entering a bay over reefs. With this was mingled the mutter of the
+Atlantic, beyond the hills--and now--yes, certainly now--the rumble of
+remote thunder.
+
+Judith had stood on the opposite side of the street looking up at
+Scantlebray's establishment; she saw no light anywhere. Now she drew
+near and crept along the walls. There was a long wing, with its back
+to the street, without a window in the wall, and she thought it
+probable that the inmates of the asylum were accommodated therein, a
+dormitory up-stairs, play or school-rooms below. There Jamie must be.
+The only windows to this wing opened into the garden; and consequently
+Judith stole along the garden wall, turned the angle, down a little
+lane, and stood listening. The wall was high, and the summit encrusted
+with broken glass. She could see the glass prongs by the flicker of
+the lightning. She could not possibly see over the wall; the lane was
+too narrow for her to go back far, and the wall on the further side
+too high to climb. Not a sound from within reached her ears.
+
+In the still night she stood holding her breath.
+
+Then a scream startled her.
+
+It was the cry of a gull flying inland.
+
+If a gull's cry could be heard, then surely that of her brother, were
+he awake and unhappy, and wanting her.
+
+She went further down the wall, and came on a small garden gate in it,
+fastened, locked from within. It had a stone step. On that she sank,
+and laid her head in her hands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+FOUND.
+
+
+Strange mystery of human sympathy! inexplicable, yet very real.
+Irrational, yet very potent. The young mother has accepted an
+invitation to a garden-party. She knows that she never looked better
+than at present, with a shade of delicacy about her. She has got a new
+bonnet that is particularly becoming, and which she desires to wear in
+public. She has been secluded from society for several months, and she
+longs to meet her friends again. She knows that she is interesting,
+and believes herself to be more interesting than she really is. So she
+goes. She is talking, laughing, a little flushed with pleasure, when
+suddenly she becomes grave, the hand that holds the plate of
+raspberries and cream trembles. All her pleasure is gone. She knows
+that baby is crying. Her eye wanders in quest of her husband, she runs
+to him, touches his arm, says--
+
+"Do order the carriage; baby is crying."
+
+It is all fiddle-de-dee. Baby has the best of nurses, the snuggest,
+daintiest little cot; has a fresh-opened tin of condensed Swiss milk.
+Reason tells her that; but no! and nurse cannot do anything to pacify
+the child, baby is crying, nurse is in despair.
+
+In like manner now did Judith argue with herself, without being able
+to convince her heart. Her reason spoke and said to her--
+
+No sound of cries comes from the asylum. There is no light in any
+window. Every inmate is asleep, Jamie among them. He does not need you.
+He is travelling in dreamland. The Scantlebrays have been kind to him.
+The lady is a good, motherly body; the gentleman's whole soul is
+devoted to finding amusement and entertainment for the afflicted
+creatures under his care. He has played tricks before Jamie, made
+shadow-pictures on the wall, told funny stories, made jacks-in-the-box
+with his hands, and Jamie has laughed till he was tired, and his heavy
+eyes closed with a laugh not fully laughed out on his lips. The
+Scantlebrays are paid £70 for taking care of Jamie, and £70 in Judith's
+estimation was a very princely sum. The £70 per annum Mr. Scantlebray
+would corruscate into his richest fun, and Mrs. Scantlebray's heart
+overflowed with warmest maternal affection.
+
+But it was in vain that Judith thus reasoned, her heart would not be
+convinced. An indescribable unrest was in her, and would not be laid.
+She knew by instinct that Jamie wanted her, was crying for her, was
+stretching out his hands in the dark for her.
+
+As she sat on the step not only did reason speak, but judgment also.
+She could do nothing there. She had acted a foolish part in coming all
+that way in the dark, and without a chance of effecting any
+deliverance to Jamie now she had reached her destination. She had
+committed an egregious error in going such a distance from home, from
+anyone who might serve as protector to her in the event of danger, and
+there were other dangers she might encounter than having stones thrown
+at her by drunken men. If the watch were to find her there, what
+explanation of her presence could she give? Would they take her away
+and lock her up for the rest of the night? They could not leave her
+there. Large, warm drops, like tears from angels' eyes, fell out of
+heaven upon her folded hands, and on her bowed neck.
+
+She began to feel chilled after having been heated by her walk, so she
+rose, and found that she had become stiff. She must move about,
+however sore and weary her feet might be.
+
+She had explored the lane as far as was needful. She could not see
+from it into the house, the garden, and playground. Was it possible
+that there was a lane on the further side of the house which would
+give her the desired opportunity?
+
+Judith resolved to return by the way she had come, down the lane into
+the main street, then to walk along the front of the house, and
+explore the other side. As she was descending the lane she noticed,
+about twenty paces from the door, on the further side, a dense mass of
+Portugal laurel that hung over the opposite wall, casting a shadow of
+inky blackness into the lane. This she considered might serve her as
+shelter when the threatening storm broke and the rain poured down. She
+walked through this shadow, and would have entered the street, but
+that she perceived certain dark objects passing noiselessly along it.
+By the flashes of lightning she could distinguish men with laden
+asses, and one she saw turn to enter the lane where she was. She drew
+back hastily into the blot cast by the bush that swung its luxuriance
+over the wall, and drew as closely back to the wall as was possible.
+Thus she could not be seen, for the reflection of the lightning would
+not fall on her; every glare made the shadow seem the deeper. Though
+concealed herself, and wholly invisible, she was able to distinguish a
+man with an ass passing by, and then halting at the door in the wall
+that surrounded Mr. Obadiah's tenement. There the man knocked, and
+uttered a peculiar whistle. As there ensued no immediate answer he
+knocked and whistled again, whereupon the door was opened; and a word
+or two was passed.
+
+"How many do you want, sir?"
+
+"Four."
+
+"Any to help to carry the half-ankers!"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, no odds. I'll carry one and you the t'other. We'll make two
+journeys, that's all. I can't leave Neddy for long, but I'll go with
+you to your house-door."
+
+Probably the person addressed nodded a reply in the darkness; he made
+no audible answer.
+
+"Which is it, Mr. Obadiah, rum or brandy?"
+
+"Brandy."
+
+"Right you are, then. These are brandy. You won't take three brandies
+and one rum?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"All right, sir; lead the way. It's deuced dark."
+
+Judith knew what this signified. Some of the householders of
+Wadebridge were taking in their supplies of spirits from the
+smugglers. Owing to the inconvenience of it being unlawful to deal
+with these men for such goods, they had to receive their purchases at
+night, and with much secrecy. There were watchmen at Wadebridge, but
+on such nights they judiciously patrolled another quarter of the town
+than that which received its supplies. The watchmen were municipal
+officials, and were not connected with the excise, had no particular
+regard for the inland revenue, anyhow, owed no duties to the officers
+of the coast-guard. Their superior was the mayor, and the mayor was
+fond of buying his spirits at the cheapest market.
+
+Both men disappeared. The door was left open behind them. The
+opportunity Judith had desired had come. Dare she seize it? For a
+moment she questioned her heart, then she resolutely stepped out of
+the shadow of the Portugal laurel, brushed past the patient ass,
+entered the grounds of Mr. Scantlebray's establishment through the
+open garden-door, and drew behind a syringa bush to consider what
+further step she should take. In another moment both men were back.
+
+"You are sure you don't mind one rum?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Right you are, then; I'll have it for you direct. The other kegs are
+at t'other end of the lane. You come with me, and we'll have 'em down
+in a jiffy."
+
+Judith heard both men pass out of the door. She looked toward the
+house. There was a light low down in a door opening into the garden or
+yard where she was.
+
+Not a moment was to be lost. As soon as the last kegs were brought in
+the house-door would be locked, and though she had entered the garden
+she would be unable to penetrate to the interior of the asylum.
+Without hesitation, strong in her earnest purpose to help Jamie to the
+utmost of her power, and grasping at every chance that offered, she
+hastened, cautiously indeed, but swiftly, to the door whence the light
+proceeded. The light was but a feeble one, and cast but a fluttering
+ray upon the gravel. Judith was careful to walk where it could not
+fall on her dress.
+
+The whole garden front of the house was now before her. She was in a
+sort of gravelled yard, with some bushes against the walls. The main
+block of the house lay to her right, and the view of it was
+intercepted by a wall. Clearly the garden space was divided, one
+portion for the house, and another, that into which she had entered,
+for the wing. That long wing rose before her with its windows all dark
+above, and the lower or ground floor also dark. Only from the door
+issued the light, and she saw that a guttering tallow candle was set
+there on the floor.
+
+Hastily she drew back. She heard feet on the gravel. The men were
+returning, Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray and the smuggler, each laden with a
+small cask of spirits.
+
+"Right you are," said the man, as he set his keg down in the passage,
+"that's yours, and I could drink your health, sir."
+
+"You wouldn't--prefer?--" Mr. Scantlebray made contortions with his
+hands between the candle and the wall, and threw a shadow on the
+surface of plaster.
+
+"No, thanks sir, I'd prefer a shilling."
+
+Mr. Scantlebray fumbled in his pockets, grunted "Humph! purse
+up-stairs." Felt again, "No," groped inside the breast of his
+waistcoat, "another time--not forget."
+
+The man muttered something not complimentary, and turned to go through
+the yard.
+
+"Must lock door," said Mr. Obadiah, and went after him. Now was
+Judith's last chance. She took it at once; the moment the backs of the
+two men were turned she darted into the passage and stood back against
+the door out of the flare of the candle.
+
+The passage was a sort of hall with slated floor, the walls plastered
+and whitewashed at one time, but the wash and plaster had been picked
+off to about five feet from the floor wherever not strongly adhesive,
+giving a diseased and sore look to the wall. The slates of the floor
+were dirty and broken.
+
+Judith looked along the hall for a place to which she could retreat on
+the return of the proprietor of the establishment. She had entered
+that portion of the building tenanted by the unhappy patients. The
+meanness of the passage, the picked walls, the situation on one side
+of the comfortable residence showed her this. A door there was on the
+right, ajar, that led into the private dwelling-house, but into that
+Judith did not care to enter. One further down on the left probably
+gave access to some apartment devoted to the "pupils," as Mrs.
+Scantlebray called the patients.
+
+There was, however, another door that was open, and from it descended
+a flight of brick steps to what Judith conjectured to be the cellars.
+At the bottom a second candle, in a tin candlestick, was guttering and
+flickering in the draught that blew in at the yard door, and descended
+to this underground story. It was obvious to the girl that Mr.
+Scantlebray was about to carry or roll his kegs just acquired down the
+brick steps to his cellar. For that purpose he had set a candle there.
+It would not therefore do for her, to attempt to avoid him, to descend
+to this lower region. She must pass the door that gave access to the
+cellars, a door usually locked, as she judged, for a large iron key
+stood in the lock, and enter the room, the door of which opened
+further down the passage.
+
+She was drawing her skirts together, so as to slip past the candle on
+the passage floor for this purpose, when her heart stood still as
+though she had received a blow on it. She heard--proceeding from
+somewhere beneath down those steps--a moan, then a feeble cry of "Ju!
+Where are you? Ju! Ju! Ju!"
+
+She all but did cry out herself. A gasp of pain and horror did escape
+her, and then, without a thought of how she could conceal herself, how
+avoid Scantlebray, she ran down the steps to the cellar.
+
+On reaching the bottom she found that there were four doors, two of
+which had square holes cut in them, but with iron bars before these
+openings. The door of one of the others, one on the left, was open,
+and she could see casks and bottles. It was a wine and spirit cellar,
+and the smell of wine issued from it.
+
+She stood panting, frightened, fearing what she might discover,
+doubting whether she had heard her brother's voice or whether she was
+a prey to fancy. Then again she heard a cry and a moan. It issued from
+the nearest cell on her right hand.
+
+"Jamie! my Jamie!" she cried.
+
+"Ju! Ju!"
+
+The door was hasped, with a crook let into a staple so that it might,
+if necessary, be padlocked. But now it was simply shut and a wooden
+peg was thrust through the eye of the crook.
+
+She caught up the candle, and with trembling hand endeavored to
+unfasten the door, but so agitated was she, so blinded with horror,
+that she could not do so till she had put down the candle again. Then
+she forced the peg from its place and raised the crook. She stooped
+and took up the candle once more, and then, with a short breath and a
+contraction of the breast, threw open the door, stepped in, and held
+up the light.
+
+The candle flame irradiated what was but a cellar compartment vaulted
+with brick, once whitewashed, now dirty with cobwebs and accumulated
+dust and damp stains. It had a stone shelf on one side, on which lay a
+broken plate and some scraps of food.
+
+Against the further wall was a low truckle bed, with a mattress on it
+and some rags of blanket. Huddled on this lay Jamie, his eyes dilated
+with terror, and yet red with weeping. His clothes had been removed,
+except his shirt. His long red-gold hair had lost all its gloss and
+beauty, it was wet with sweat and knotted. The boy's face was ghastly
+in the flickering light.
+
+Judith dropped the candle on the floor, and rushed with outstretched
+arms, and a cry--piercing, but beaten back on her by the walls and
+vault of the cell--and caught the frightened boy to her heart.
+
+"Jamie! O my Jamie! my Jamie!"
+
+She swayed herself, crying, in the bed, holding him to her, with no
+thought, her whole being absorbed in a spasm of intensest, most
+harrowing pain. The tallow candle was on the slate floor, fallen,
+melting, spluttering, flaming.
+
+And in the door, holding the brandy keg upon his shoulders, stood,
+with open eyes and mouth, Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+AN UNWILLING PRISONER.
+
+
+Mr. Obadiah stood open-mouthed staring at the twins clasped in each
+other's arms, unable at first to understand what he saw. Then a
+suspicion entered his dull brain, he uttered a growl, put down the
+keg, his heavy brows contracted, he shut his mouth, drawing in his
+lips so that they disappeared, and he clenched his hands.
+
+"Wait--I'll beat you!" he said.
+
+The upset candle was on the floor, now half molten, with a pond of
+tallow burning with a lambent blue flicker trembling on extinction,
+then shooting up in a yellow flame.
+
+In that uncertain, changeful, upward light the face of the man looked
+threatening, remorseless, so that Judith, in a paroxysm of fear for
+her brother and herself dropped, on her knee, and caught at the tin
+candlestick as the only weapon of defence accessible. It was hot and
+burnt her fingers, but she did not let go; and as she stood up the
+dissolved candle fell from it among some straw that littered the
+pavement. This at once kindled and blazed up into golden flame.
+
+For a moment the cell was full of light. Mr. Obadiah at once saw the
+danger. His casks of brandy were hard by--the fume of alcohol was in
+the air--if the fire spread and caught his stores a volume of flame
+would sweep up the cellar stair and set his house on fire. He hastily
+sprang in, and danced about the cell stamping furiously at the ignited
+wisps. Judith, who saw him rush forward, thought he was about to
+strike her and Jamie, and raised the tin candlestick in self-defence;
+but when she saw him engaged in trampling out the fire, tearing at the
+bed to drag away the blankets with which to smother the embers, she
+drew Jamie aside from his reach, sidled, with him clinging to her,
+along the wall, and by a sudden spring reached the passage, slammed
+the door, fastened the hasp, and had the gaoler secured in his own
+gaol.
+
+For a moment Mr. Scantlebray was unaware that he was a prisoner, so
+busily engaged was he in trampling out the fire, but the moment he did
+realize the fact he slung himself with all his force against the door.
+
+Judith looked round her. There was now no light in the cellar but the
+feeble glimmer that descended the stair from the candle above. The
+flame of that was now burning steadily, for the door opening into the
+yard was shut, and the draught excluded.
+
+In dragging Jamie along with her, Judith had drawn forth a scanty
+blanket that was about his shoulders. She wrapped it round the boy.
+
+"Let me out!" roared Scantlebray. "Don't understand. Fun--rollicking
+fun."
+
+Judith paid no attention to his bellow. She was concerned only to
+escape with Jamie. She was well aware that her only chance was by
+retaining Mr. Obadiah where he was.
+
+"Let me out!" again shouted the prisoner; and he threw himself
+furiously against the door. But though it jarred on its hinges and
+made the hasp leap, he could not break it down. Nevertheless, so big
+and strong was the man that it was by no means improbable that his
+repeated efforts might start a staple or snap a hinge band, and he and
+the door might come together crashing down into the passage between
+the cells.
+
+Judith drew Jamie up the steps, and on reaching the top shut the
+cellar door. Below, Mr. Scantlebray roared, swore, shouted, and beat
+against the door; but now his voice, and the sound of his blows were
+muffled, and would almost certainly be inaudible in the
+dwelling-house. No wonder that Judith had not heard the cries of her
+brother. It had never occurred to her that the hapless victim of the
+keeper of the asylum might be chastised, imprisoned, variously
+maltreated in regions underground, whence no sounds of distress might
+reach the street, and apprise the passers-by that all was not laughter
+within. Standing in the passage or hall above, Judith said:
+
+"Oh, Jamie! where are your clothes?"
+
+The boy looked into her face with a vacant and distressed expression.
+He could not answer, he did not even understand her question, so
+stupefied was he by his terrors, and the treatment he had undergone.
+
+Judith took the candle from the floor and searched the hall. Nothing
+was there save Mr. Scantlebray's coat, which he had removed and cast
+across one of the kegs when he prepared to convey them down to his
+cellar. Should she take that? She shook her head at the thought. She
+would not have it said that she had taken anything out of the house,
+except only--as that was an extreme necessity, the blanket wrapped
+about Jamie. She looked into the room that opened beyond the cellar
+door. It was a great bare apartment, containing only a table and some
+forms.
+
+"Jamie!" she said, "we must get away from this place as we are. There
+is no help for it. Do you not know where your clothes were put?"
+
+He shook his head. He clung to her with both arms, as though afraid,
+if he held by but one that she would slip away and vanish, as one
+drowning, clinging to the only support that sustained him from
+sinking.
+
+"Come, Jamie! It cannot be otherwise!" She set down the candle, opened
+the door into the yard, and issued forth into the night along with the
+boy. The clouds had broken, and poured down their deluge of warm
+thunder rain. In the dark Judith was unable to find her direction at
+once, she reached the boundary wall where was no door.
+
+Jamie uttered a cry of pain.
+
+"What is it, dear?"
+
+"The stones cut my feet."
+
+She felt along the wall with one hand till she touched the jamb, then
+pressed against the door itself. It was shut. She groped for the lock.
+No key was in it. She could as little escape from that enclosure as
+she could enter into it from without. The door was very solid, and the
+lock big and secure. What was to be done? Judith considered for a
+moment, standing in the pouring rain through which the lightning
+flashed obscurely, illumining nothing. It seemed to her that there was
+but one course open to her, to return and obtain the key from Mr.
+Obadiah Scantlebray. But it would be no easy matter to induce him to
+surrender it.
+
+"Jamie! will you remain at the door? Here under the wall is some
+shelter. I must go back."
+
+But the boy was frightened at the prospect of being deserted.
+
+"Then--Jamie, will you come back with me to the house?"
+
+No, he would not do that.
+
+"I must go for the key, dearest," she said, coaxingly. "I cannot open
+the door, so that we can escape, unless I have the key. Will you do
+something for Ju? Sit here, on the steps, where you are somewhat
+screened from the rain, and sing to me something, one of our old
+songs--A jolly hawk and his wings were gray? sing that, that I may
+hear your voice and find my way back to you. Oh--and here, Jamie, your
+feet are just the size of mine, and so you shall pull on my shoes.
+Then you will be able to run alongside of me and not hurt your soles."
+
+With a little persuasion she induced him to do as she asked. She took
+off her own shoes and gave them to him, then went across the yard to
+where was the house, she discovered the door by a little streak of
+light below it and the well trampled and worn threshold stone. She
+opened the door, took up the candle and again descended the steps to
+the cellar floor. On reaching the bottom, she held up the light and
+saw that the door was still sound; at the square barred opening was
+the red face of Mr. Scantlebray.
+
+"Let me out," he roared.
+
+"Give me the key of the garden door."
+
+"Will you let me out if I do?"
+
+"No; but this I promise, as soon as I have escaped from your premises
+I will knock and ring at your front door till I have roused the house,
+and then you will be found and released. By that time we shall have
+got well away."
+
+"I will not give you the key."
+
+"Then here you remain," said Judith, and began to reascend the steps.
+It had occurred to her, suddenly, that very possibly the key she
+desired was in the pocket of the coat Mr. Scantlebray had cast off
+before descending to the cellar. She would hold no further
+communication with him till she had ascertained this. He yelled after
+her "Let me out, and you shall have the key." But she paid no
+attention to his promise. On reaching the top of the stairs, she again
+shut the door, and took up his coat. She searched the pockets. No key
+was within.
+
+She must go to him once more.
+
+He began to shout as he saw the flicker of the candle approach. "Here
+is the key, take it, and do as you said." His hand, a great coarse
+hand, was thrust through the opening in the door, and in it was the
+key she required.
+
+"Very well," said she, "I will do as I undertook."
+
+She put her hand, the right hand, up to receive the key. In her left
+was the candlestick. Suddenly he let go the key that clinked down on
+the floor outside, and made a clutch at her hand and caught her by the
+wrist. She grasped the bar in the little window, or he would have
+drawn her hand in, dragged her by the arm up against the door, and
+broken it. He now held her wrist and with his strong hand strove to
+wrench her fingers from their clutch.
+
+"Unhasp the door!" he howled at her.
+
+She did not answer other than with a cry of pain, as he worked with
+his hand at her wrist, and verily it seemed as though the fragile
+bones must snap under his drag.
+
+"Unhasp the door!" he roared again.
+
+With his great fingers and thick nails he began to thrust at and
+ploughed her knuckles; he had her by the wrist with one hand, and he
+was striving to loosen her hold of the bar with the other.
+
+"Unhasp the door!" he yelled a third time, "or I'll break every bone
+in your fingers!" and he brought his fist down on the side of the door
+to show how he would pound them by a blow. If he did not do this at
+once it was because he dreaded by too heavy a blow to strike the bar
+and wound himself while crushing her hand.
+
+She could not hold the iron stanchion for more than another
+instant--and then he would drag her arm in, as a lion in its cage when
+it had laid hold of the incautious visitor, tears him to itself
+through the bars.
+
+Then she brought the candle-flame up against his hand that grasped her
+wrist, and it played round it. He uttered a scream of pain, and let go
+for a moment. But that moment sufficed. She was free. The key was on
+the floor. She stooped to pick it up; but her fingers were as though
+paralyzed, she was forced to take it with the left hand and leave the
+candle on the floor. Then, holding the key she ran up the steps, ran
+out into the yard, and heard her brother wailing, "Ju! I want you!
+Where are you, Ju?"
+
+Guided by his cries she reached the door. The key she put into the
+lock, and with a little effort turned it. The door opened, she and
+Jamie were free.
+
+The door shut behind them. They were in the dark lane, under a pouring
+rain. But Judith thought nothing of the darkness, nothing of the rain.
+She threw her arms round her brother, put her wet cheek against his,
+and burst into tears.
+
+"My Jamie! O my Jamie!"
+
+But the deliverance of her brother was not complete; she must bring
+him back to Polzeath. She could allow herself but a moment for the
+relief of her heart, and then she caught him to her side, and pushed
+on with him along the lane till they entered the street. Here she
+stood for a moment in uncertainty. Was she bound to fulfil her
+engagement to Mr. Obadiah? She had obtained the key, but he had
+behaved to her with treachery. He had not intended the key to be other
+than a bait to draw her within his clutch, that he might torture her
+into opening the door of his cell. Nevertheless, she had the key, and
+Judith was too honorable to take advantage of him.
+
+With Jamie still clinging to her she went up the pair of steps to the
+front door, rang the night-bell, and knocked long and loud. Then, all
+at once her strength that had lasted gave way, and she sank on the
+doorsteps, without indeed losing consciousness, but losing in an
+instant all power of doing or thinking, of striving any more for Jamie
+or for herself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+A RESCUE.
+
+
+A window overhead was thrown open, and a voice that Judith recognized
+as that of Mrs. Obadiah Scantlebray, called: "Who is there?--what is
+wanted?"
+
+The girl could not answer. The power to speak was gone from her. It
+was as though all her faculties, exerted to the full, had at once
+given way. She could not rise from the steps on which she had sunk:
+the will to make the effort was gone. Her head was fallen against the
+jamb of the door and the knot of the kerchief was between her head and
+the wood, and hurt her, but even the will to lift her hands and shift
+the bandage one inch was not present.
+
+The mill-wheel revolves briskly, throwing the foaming water out of its
+buckets, with a lively rattle, then its movement slackens, it strains,
+the buckets fill and even spill, but the wheel seems to be reduced to
+statuariness. That stress point is but for a moment, then the weight
+of the water overbalances the strain, and whirr! round plunges the
+wheel, and the bright foaming water is whisked about, and the buckets
+disgorge their contents.
+
+It is the same with the wheel of human life. It has its periods of
+rapid and glad revolutions, and also its moments of supreme tension,
+when it is all but overstrung--when its movement is hardly
+perceptible. The strain put on Judith's faculties had been excessive,
+and now those faculties failed her, failed her absolutely. The
+prostration might not last long--it might last forever. It is so
+sometimes when there has been overexertion; thought stops, will ceases
+to act, sensation dies into numbness, the heart beats slow, slower,
+then perhaps stops finally.
+
+It was not quite come to that with Judith. She knew that she had
+rushed into danger again, the very danger from which she had just
+escaped, she knew it, but she was incapable of acting on the
+knowledge.
+
+"Who is below?" was again called from an upper window.
+
+Judith, with open eyes, heard that the rain was still falling heavily,
+heard the shoot of water from the roof plash down into the runnel of
+the street, felt the heavy drops come down on her from the architrave
+over the door, and she saw something in the roadway: shadows stealing
+along the same as she had seen before, but passing in a reversed
+direction. These were again men and beasts, but their feet and hoofs
+were no longer inaudible, they trod in the puddles and splashed and
+squelched the water and mud about, at each step. The smugglers had
+delivered the supplies agreed on, at the houses of those who dealt
+with them, and were now returning, the asses no longer laden.
+
+And Judith heard the door behind her unbarred and unchained and
+unlocked. Then it was opened, and a ray of light was cast into the
+street, turning falling rain-drops into drops of liquid gold, and
+revealing, ghostly, a passing ass and its driver.
+
+"Who is there? _Is_ anyone there?"
+
+Then the blaze of light was turned on Judith, and her eyes shut with a
+spasm of pain.
+
+In the doorway stood Mrs. Scantlebray half-garmented, that is to say
+with a gown on, the folds of which fell in very straight lines from
+the waist to her feet, and with a night-cap on her head, and her curls
+in papers. She held a lamp in her hand, and this was now directed upon
+the girl, lying, or half-sitting in the doorway, her bandaged head
+leaning against the jamb, one hand in her lap, the fingers open, the
+other falling at her side, hanging down the steps, the fingers in the
+running current of the gutter, in which also was one shoeless foot.
+
+"Why--goodness! mercy on us!" exclaimed Mrs. Scantlebray,
+inconsiderately thrusting the lamp close into the girl's face. "It can
+never be--yet--surely it is----"
+
+"Judith!" exclaimed a deep voice, the sound of which sent a sudden
+flutter through the girl's nerves and pulses. "Judith!" and from out
+the darkness and falling rain plunged a man in full mantle wrapped
+about him and overhanging broad-brimmed hat. Without a word of excuse
+he snatched the light from Mrs. Scantlebray and raised it above
+Judith's head.
+
+"Merciful powers!" he cried, "what is the meaning of this! What has
+happened? There is blood here--blood! Judith--speak. For heaven's
+sake, speak!"
+
+The light fell on his face, his glittering eyes--and she slightly
+turned her head and looked at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but
+could form no words, but the appeal in those dim eyes went to his
+heart, he thrust the lamp roughly back into Mrs. Scantlebray's hand,
+knelt on the steps, passed an arm under the girl, the other about her
+waist, lifted and carried her without a word inside the house. There
+was a leather-covered ottoman in the hall, and he laid her on that,
+hastily throwing off his cloak, folding it, and placing it as a pillow
+beneath her head.
+
+Then, on one knee at her side, he drew a flask from his breast pocket,
+and poured some drops of spirit down her throat. The strength of the
+brandy made her catch her breath, and brought a flash of red to her
+cheek. It had served its purpose, helped the wheel of life to turn
+beyond the stress point at which it threatened to stay wholly. She
+moved her head, and looked eagerly about her for Jamie. He was not
+there. She drew a long breath, a sigh of relief.
+
+"Are you better?" he asked, stooping over her, and she could read the
+intensity of his anxiety in his face.
+
+She tried to smile a reply, but the muscles of her lips were too stiff
+for more than a flutter.
+
+"Run!" ordered Captain Coppinger, standing up, "you woman, are you a
+fool? Where is your husband? He is a doctor, fetch him. The girl might
+die."
+
+"He--Captain--he is engaged, I believe, taking in his stores."
+
+"Fetch him! Leave the lamp here."
+
+Mrs. Scantlebray groped about for a candle, and having found one,
+proceeded to light it.
+
+"I'm really shocked to appear before you, Captain, in this state of
+undress."
+
+"Fetch your husband!" said Coppinger, impatiently.
+
+Then she withdrew.
+
+The draught of spirits had acted on Judith and revived her. Her breath
+came more evenly, her heart beat regularly, and the blood began to
+circulate again. As her bodily powers returned, her mind began to work
+once more, and again anxiously she looked about her.
+
+"What is it you want?" asked Captain Cruel.
+
+"Where is Jamie?"
+
+He muttered a low oath. Always Jamie. She could think of no one but
+that silly boy.
+
+Then suddenly she recalled her position--in Scantlebray's house, and
+the wife was on the way to the cellars, would find him, release
+him--and though she knew that Coppinger would not suffer Obadiah to
+injure her, she feared, in her present weakness, a violent scene. She
+sat up, dropped her feet on the floor, and stretched both her hands to
+the smuggler.
+
+"Oh, take me! take me from here."
+
+"No, Judith," he answered. "You must have the doctor to see you--after
+that----"
+
+"No! no! take me before he comes. He will kill me."
+
+Coppinger laughed. He would like to see the man who would dare to lay
+a finger on Judith while he stood by.
+
+Now they heard a noise from the wings of the house at the side that
+communicated with the dwelling by a door that Mrs. Scantlebray had
+left ajar. There were exclamations, oaths, a loud, angry voice, and
+the shrill tones of the woman mingled with the bass notes of her
+husband. The color that had risen to the girl's cheeks left them; she
+put her hands on Coppinger's breast and looking him entreatingly in
+the eyes, said:
+
+"I pray you! I pray you!"
+
+He snatched her up in his arms, drew her close to him, went to the
+door, cast it open with his foot, and bore her out into the rain.
+There stood his mare, Black Bess, with a lad holding her.
+
+"Judith, can you ride?"
+
+He lifted her into the saddle.
+
+"Boy," said he, "lead on gently; I will stay her lest she fall."
+
+Then they moved away, and saw through the sheet of falling rain the
+lighted door, and Scantlebray in it, in his shirt sleeves shaking his
+fists, and his wife behind him, endeavoring to draw him back by the
+buckle and strap of his waistcoat.
+
+"Oh, where is Jamie? I wonder where Jamie is?" said Judith, looking
+round her in the dark, but could see no sign of her brother.
+
+There were straggling houses for half a mile--a little gap of garden
+or paddock, then a cottage, then a cluster of trees, and an alehouse,
+then hedges and no more houses. A cooler wind was blowing, dispelling
+the close, warm atmosphere, and the rain fell less heavily. There was
+a faint light among the clouds like a watering of satin. It showed
+that the storm was passing away. The lightning flashes were, moreover,
+at longer intervals, fainter, and the thunder rumbled distantly. With
+the fresher air, some strength and life came back to Judith. The wheel
+though on the turn was not yet revolving rapidly.
+
+Coppinger walked by the horse, he had his arm up, holding Judith, for
+he feared lest in her weakness she might fall, and indeed, by her
+weight upon his hand, he was aware that her power to sustain herself
+unassisted was not come. He looked up at her; he could hardly fail to
+do so, standing, striding so close to her, her wet garments brushing
+his face; but he could not see her, or saw her indistinctly. He had
+thrust her little foot into the leather of his stirrup, as the strap
+was too long for her to use, and he did not tarry to shorten it.
+
+Coppinger was much puzzled to learn how Judith had come at such an
+hour to the door of Mrs. Obadiah Scantlebray, shoeless, and with
+wounded head, but he asked no questions. He was aware that she was not
+in a condition to answer them.
+
+He held her up with his right hand in the saddle, and with his left he
+held her foot in the leather. Were she to fall she might drag by the
+foot, and he must be on his guard against that. Pacing in the
+darkness, holding her, his heart beat, and his thoughts tossed and
+boiled within him. This girl so feeble, so childish, he was coming
+across incessantly, thrown in her way to help her, and he was bound to
+her by ties invisible, impalpable, and yet of such strength that he
+could not break through them and free himself.
+
+He was a man of indomitable will, of iron strength, staying up this
+girl, who had flickered out of unconsciousness and might slide back
+into it again at any moment, and yet he felt, he knew that he was
+powerless before her--that if she said to him, "Lie down that I may
+trample on you," he would throw himself in the foul road without a
+word to be trodden under by these shoeless feet. There was but one
+command she could lay on him that he would not perform, and that was
+"Let me go by myself! Never come near me!" That he could not obey. The
+rugged moon revolves about the earth. Could the moon fly away into
+space were the terrestrial orb to bid it cease to be a satellite? And
+if it did, whither would it go? Into far off space, into outer
+darkness and deathly cold, to split and shiver into fragments in the
+inconceivable frost in the abyss of blackness. And Judith threw a sort
+of light and heat over this fierce, undisciplined man, that trembled
+in his veins and bathed his heart, and was to him a spring of beauty,
+a summer of light. Could he leave her? To leave her would be to be
+lost to everything that had now begun to transform his existence. The
+thought came over him now, as he walked along in silence--that she
+might bid him let go, and he felt that he could not obey. He must hold
+her, he must hold her not _from_ him on the saddle, not as merely
+staying her up, but to himself, to his heart, as his own, his own
+forever.
+
+Suddenly an exclamation from Judith: "Jamie! Jamie!"
+
+Something was visible in the darkness, something whitish in the hedge.
+In another moment it came bounding up.
+
+"Ju! oh, Ju! I ran away!"
+
+"You did well," she said. "Now I am happy. You are saved."
+
+Coppinger looked impatiently round and saw by the feeble light that
+the boy had come close to him, and that he was wrapped up in a
+blanket.
+
+"He has nothing on him," said Judith. "Oh, poor Jamie!"
+
+She had revived; she was almost herself again. She held herself more
+firmly in the saddle and did not lean so heavily on Coppinger's hand.
+
+Coppinger was vexed at the appearance of the boy, Jamie; he would fain
+have paced along in silence by the side of Judith. If she could not
+speak it mattered not so long as he held her. But that this fool
+should spring out of the darkness and join company with him and her,
+and at once awake her interest and loosen her tongue, irritated him.
+But as she was able to speak he would address her, and not allow her
+to talk over his head with Jamie.
+
+"How have you been hurt?" he asked. "Why have you tied that bandage
+about your head?"
+
+"I have been cut by a stone."
+
+"How came that?"
+
+"A drunken man threw it at me."
+
+"What was his name?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"That is well for him." Then, after a short pause, he asked further,
+"And your unshod feet?"
+
+"Oh! I gave my shoes to Jamie."
+
+Coppinger turned sharply round on the boy. "Take off those shoes
+instantly and give them back to your sister."
+
+"No--indeed, no," said Judith. "He is running and will cut his poor
+feet--and I, through your kindness, am riding."
+
+Coppinger did not insist. He asked: "But how comes the boy to be
+without clothes?"
+
+"Because I rescued him, as he was, from the Asylum."
+
+"You--! Is that why you are out at night?"
+
+"Yes. I knew he had been taken by the two Mr. Scantlebrays at
+Wadebridge, and I could not rest. I felt sure he was miserable, and
+was dying for me."
+
+"So--in the night you went to him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But how did you get him his freedom?"
+
+"I found him locked in the black-hole, in the cellar."
+
+"And did Scantlebray look on passively while you released him?"
+
+"Oh, no, I let Jamie out, and locked him in, in his place."
+
+"You--Scantlebray in the black-hole!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Then Coppinger laughed, laughed long and boisterously. His hand that
+held Judith's foot and the stirrup leather shook with his laughter.
+
+"By Heaven!--You are wonderful, very wonderful. Any one who opposes
+you is ill-treated, knocked down and broken, or locked into a black
+hole in the dead of night."
+
+Judith, in spite of her exhaustion, was obliged to smile.
+
+"You see, I must do what I can for Jamie."
+
+"Always Jamie."
+
+"Yes, Captain Coppinger, always Jamie. He is helpless and must be
+thought for. I am mother, nurse, sister to him."
+
+"His providence," sneered Coppinger.
+
+"The means under Providence of preserving him," said Judith.
+
+"And me--would you do aught for me?"
+
+"Did I not come down the cliffs for you?" asked the girl.
+
+"Heaven forgive me that I forgot that for one moment," he answered,
+with vehemence. "Happy--happy--happiest of any in this vile world is
+the man for whom you will think, and scheme and care and dare--as you
+do for Jamie."
+
+"There is none such," said Judith.
+
+"No--I know that," he answered, gloomily, and strode forward with his
+head down.
+
+Ten minutes had elapsed in silence, and Polzeath was approached. Then
+suddenly Coppinger let go his hold of Judith, caught the rein of Black
+Bess, and arrested her. Standing beside Judith, he said, in a peevish,
+low tone:
+
+"I touched your hand, and said I was subject to a queen." He bent,
+took her foot and kissed it. "You repulsed me as subject; you are my
+mistress!--accept me as your slave."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+AN EXAMINATION.
+
+
+Some days had elapsed. Judith had not suffered from her second night
+expedition as she had from the first, but the intellectual abilities
+of Jamie had deteriorated. The fright he had undergone had shaken his
+nerves, and had made him more restless, timid, and helpless than
+heretofore, exacting more of Judith's attention and more trying her
+endurance. But she trusted these ill effects would pass away in time.
+From his rambling talk she had been able to gather some particulars,
+which to a degree modified her opinion relative to the behavior of Mr.
+Obadiah Scantlebray. It appeared from the boy's own account that he
+had been very troublesome. After he had been taken into the wing of
+the establishment that was occupied by the imbeciles, his alarm and
+bewilderment had grown. He had begun to cry and to clamor for his
+release, or for the presence of his sister. As night came on,
+paroxysms of impotent rage had alternated with fits of whining. The
+appearance of his companions in confinement, some of them complete
+idiots, with half-human gestures and faces, had enhanced his terrors.
+He would eat no supper, and when put to bed in the common dormitory
+had thrown off his clothes, torn his sheets, and refused to lie down;
+had sat up and screamed at the top of his voice. Nothing that could be
+done, no representations would pacify him. He prevented his fellow
+inmates of the asylum from sleeping, and he made it not at all
+improbable that his cries would be overheard by passers-by in the
+street, or those occupying neighboring houses, and thus give rise to
+unpleasant surmises, and perhaps inquiry. Finally, Scantlebray had
+removed the boy to the place of punishment, the Black Hole, a
+compartment of the cellars, there to keep him till his lungs were
+exhausted, or his reason gained the upper hand, and Judith supposed,
+with some justice, that Scantlebray had done this only, or chiefly,
+because he himself would be up, and about the cellars, engaged in
+housing his supplies of brandy, and that he had no intention of
+locking the unhappy boy up for the entire night, in solitude, in his
+cellars. He had not left him in complete darkness, for a candle had
+been placed on the ground outside the Black Hole door.
+
+As Judith saw the matter now, it seemed to her that though Scantlebray
+had acted with harshness and lack of judgment there was some
+palliation for his conduct. That Jamie could be most exasperating, she
+knew full well by experience. When he went into one of his fits of
+temper and crying, it took many hours and much patience to pacify him.
+She had spent long time and exhausted her efforts to bring him to a
+subdued frame of mind on the most irrational and trifling occasions,
+when he had been angered. Nothing answered with him then save infinite
+forbearance and exuberant love. On this occasion there was good excuse
+for Jamie's fit, he had been frightened, and frightened out of his few
+wits. As Judith said to herself--had she been treated in the same
+manner, spirited off, without preparation, to a strange house,
+confined among afflicted beings, deprived of every familiar
+companion--she would have been filled with terror, and reasonably so.
+She would not have exhibited it, however, in the same manner as Jamie.
+
+Scantlebray had not acted with gentleness, but he had not, on the
+other hand, exhibited wanton cruelty. That he was a man of coarse
+nature, likely on provocation to break through the superficial veneer
+of amiability, she concluded from her own experience, and she did not
+doubt that those of the unfortunate inmates of the asylum who
+overstrained his forbearance met with very rough handling. But that he
+took a malignant pleasure in harassing and torturing them, that she
+did not believe.
+
+On the day following the escape from the asylum, Judith sent Mr.
+Menaida to Wadebridge with the blanket that had been carried off round
+the shoulders of her brother, and with a request to have Jamie's
+clothes surrendered. Uncle Zachie returned with the garments, they
+were not refused him, and Judith and her brother settled down into the
+routine of employment and amusement as before. The lad assisted Mr.
+Menaida with his bird skins, talking a little more childishly than
+before, and sticking less assiduously to his task; and Judith did her
+needlework and occasionally played on the piano the pieces of music at
+which Uncle Zachie had hammered ineffectually for many years, and she
+played them to the old man's satisfaction.
+
+At last the girl ventured to induce Jamie to recommence his lessons.
+He resisted at first, and when she did, on a rainy day, persuade him
+to set to his school tasks, she was careful not to hold him to them
+for more than a few minutes, and to select those lessons which made
+him least impatient.
+
+There was a "Goldsmith's Geography," illustrated with copper-plates of
+Indians attacking Captain Cook, the geysers, Esquimaux fishing, etc.,
+that always amused the boy. Accordingly, more geography was done
+during these first days of resumption of work than history,
+arithmetic, or reading. Latin had not yet been attempted, as that was
+Jamie's particular aversion. However, the Eton Latin grammar was
+produced, and placed on the table, to familiarize his mind with the
+idea that it had to be tackled some day.
+
+Judith had spread the table with lesson-books, ink, slate, and
+writing-copies, one morning, when she was surprised at the entry of
+four gentlemen, two of whom she recognized immediately as the Brothers
+Scantlebray. The other two she did not know. One was thin faced, with
+red hair, a high forehead extending to the crown, with the hair drawn
+over it, and well pomatumed, to keep it in place, and conceal the
+baldness; the other a short man, in knee-breeches and tan-boots, with
+a red face, and with breath that perfumed the whole room with spirits.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray, senior, came up with both hands extended. "This is
+splendid! How are you? Never more charmed in my life, and ready to
+impart knowledge, as the sun diffuses light. Obadiah, old man, look at
+your pupil--better already for having passed through your hands. I can
+see it at a glance; there's a brightness, a _Je ne sais quoi_ about
+him that was not there before. Old man, I congratulate you. You have a
+gift--shake hands."
+
+The gentlemen seated themselves without invitation. Surprise and
+alarm made Judith forget her usual courtesy. She feared lest the sight
+of his gaolers might excite Jamie. But it was not so. Whether, in his
+confused mind, he did not associate Mr. Obadiah with his troubles on
+that night of distress, or whether his attention was distracted by the
+sight of so many, was doubtful, but Jamie did not seem to be
+disconcerted; rather, on the contrary, he was glad of some excuse for
+escape from lessons.
+
+"We are come," said the red-headed man, "at Miss Trevisa's desire--but
+really, Mr. Scantlebray, for shame of you. Where are your manners?
+Introduce me."
+
+"Mr. Vokins," said Scantlebray, "and the accomplished and charming
+Miss Judith Trevisa, orphing."
+
+"And now, dear young lady," said the red-headed man, "now, positively,
+it is my turn--my friend, Mr. Jukes. Jukes, man! Miss Judith Trevisa."
+
+Then Mr. Vokins coughed into his thin white hand, and said, "We are
+come, naturally--and I am sure you wish what Miss Trevisa wishes--to
+just look at your brother, and give our opinion on his health."
+
+"Oh, he is quite well," said Judith.
+
+"Ah! you think so, naturally, but we would decide for ourselves,
+dearest young lady, though--not for the world would we willingly
+differ from you. But, you know, there are questions on which varieties
+of opinions are allowable, and yet do not disturb the most heartfelt
+friendship. It is so, is it not, Jukes?"
+
+The rubicund man in knee-breeches nodded.
+
+"Shall I begin, Jukes? Why, my fine little man! What an array of
+books! What scholarship! And at your age, too--astounding! What age
+did you say you were?" This to Jamie in an insinuating tone. Jamie
+stared, looked appealingly at Judith, and said nothing.
+
+"We are the same age, we are twins," said Judith.
+
+"Oh! it is not the right thing to appear anxious to know a lady's age.
+We will put it another way, eh, Jukes?"
+
+The red-faced man leaned his hands on his stick, his chin on his
+hands, and winked, as in that position he could not nod.
+
+"Now, my fine little man! When is your birthday? When you have your
+cake--raisin-cake, eh?"
+
+Jamie looked questioningly at his sister.
+
+"Ah! Come, not the day of the month--but the month, eh?"
+
+Jamie could not answer.
+
+"Come now," said the red-headed levy man, stretching his legs before
+him, legs vested in white trousers, strapped down tight. "Come now, my
+splendid specimen of humanity! In which quarter of the year? Between
+sickle and scythe, eh?" He waited, and receiving no answer, pulled out
+a pocket-book and made a note, after having first wetted the end of
+his pencil. "Don't know when he was born. What do you say to that,
+Jukes? Will you take your turn?"
+
+The man with an inflamed face was gradually becoming purple, as he
+leaned forward on his stick, and said, "Humph! a Latin grammar.
+Propria quæ maribus. I remember it, but it was a long time ago I
+learned it. Now, whipper-snapper! How do you get on? Propria quæ
+maribus--Go on." He waited. Jamie looked at him in astonishment.
+"Come! Tribu--" again he waited. "Come! _Tribuntur mascula dicas._ Go
+on." Again a pause. Then with an impatient growl. "Ut sunt divorum,
+Mars, Bacchus, Apollo. This will never do. Go on with the Scaramouch,
+Vokins. I'll make my annotations."
+
+"He's too hard on my little chap, ain't he?" asked the thin man in
+ducks. "We won't be done. We are not old enough----"
+
+"He is but eighteen," said Judith.
+
+"He is but eighteen," repeated the red-headed man. "Of course he has
+not got so far as that, but musa, musæ."
+
+Jamie turned sulky.
+
+"Not musa, musæ--and eighteen years! Jukes, this is serious, Jukes;
+eh, Jukes?"
+
+"Now look here, you fellows," said Scantlebray, senior. "You are too
+exacting. It's holiday time, ain't it, Orphing? We won't be put upon,
+not we. We'll sport, and frolic, and be joyful. Look here, Scanty, old
+man, take the slate and draw a pictur' to my describing. Now then,
+Jamie, look at him and hearken to me. He's the funniest old man that
+ever was, and he'll surprise you. Are you ready, Scanty?" Mr. Obadiah
+drew the slate before him, and signed with the pencil to Jamie to
+observe him. The boy was quite ready to see him draw.
+
+"There was once upon a time," began Mr. Scantlebray, senior, "a man
+that lived in a round tower. Look at him, draw it, there you are. That
+is the tower. Go on. And in the tower was a round winder. Do you see
+the winder, Orphing? This man every morning put his hand out of the
+winder to ascertain which way the wind blew. He put it in thus, and
+drew it out thus. No! don't look at me, look at the slate and then
+you'll see it all. Now this man had a large pond, preserved full of
+fish." Scratch, scratch went the pencil on the slate. "Them's the
+fish," said Scantlebray, senior. "Now below the situation of that
+pond, in two huts, lived a pair of thieves. You see them pokey things
+my brother has drawn? Them's the 'uts. When night set in, these wicked
+thieves came walking up to the pond, see my brother drawing their
+respective courses! And on reaching the pond, they opened the sluice,
+and whish! whish! out poured the water." Scratch, scratch, squeak,
+squeak, went the pencil on the slate. "There now! the naughty robbers
+went after fish, and got a goose! Look! a goo-oose."
+
+"Where's the goose?" asked Jamie.
+
+"Where? Before your eyes--under your nose. That brilliant brother of
+mine has drawn one. Hold the slate up, Scanty."
+
+"That's not a goose," said Jamie.
+
+"Not a goose! You don't know what geese are."
+
+"Yes, I do," retorted the boy, resentfully, "I know the wild goose and
+the tame one--which do you call that?"
+
+"Oh, wild goose, of course."
+
+"It's not one. A goose hasn't a tail like that, nor such legs," said
+Jamie, contemptuously.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray, senior, looked at Messrs. Vokins and Jukes and shook
+his head. "A bad case. Don't know a goose when he sees it--and he is
+eighteen."
+
+Both Vokins and Jukes made an entry in their pocket-books.
+
+"Now Jukes," said Vokins, "will you take a turn, or shall I?"
+
+"Oh, you, Vokins," answered Jukes, "I haven't recovered _propria quæ
+maribus_, yet."
+
+"Very well, my interesting young friend. Suppose now we change the
+subject and try arithmetic."
+
+"I don't want any arithmetic," said Jamie, sulkily.
+
+"No--come--now we won't call it by that name; suppose some one were
+to give you a shilling."
+
+Jamie looked up interested.
+
+"And suppose he were to say. There--go and buy sweeties with this
+shilling. Tartlets at three for two pence, and barley-sugar at three
+farthings a stick, and----"
+
+"I want my shilling back," said Jamie, looking straight into the face
+of Mr. Scantlebray, senior.
+
+"And that there were burnt almonds at two pence an ounce."
+
+"I want my shilling," exclaimed the boy, angrily.
+
+"Your shilling, puff! puff!" said the red-headed man. "This is ideal,
+an ideal shilling, and ideal jam-tarts, almond rock, burnt almonds or
+what you like."
+
+"Give me back my shilling. I won it fair," persisted Jamie.
+
+Then Judith, distressed, interfered. "Jamie, dear! what do you mean?
+You have no shilling owing to you."
+
+"I have! I have!" screamed the boy. "I won it fair of that man there,
+because I made a rabbit, and he took it from me again."
+
+"Hallucinations," said Jukes.
+
+"Quite so," said Vokins.
+
+"Give me my shilling. It is a cheat!" cried Jamie, now suddenly roused
+into one of his fits of passion.
+
+Judith caught him by the arm, and endeavored to pacify him.
+
+"Let go, Ju! I will have my shilling. That man took it away. He is a
+cheat, a thief. Give me my shilling."
+
+"I am afraid he is excitable," said Vokins.
+
+"Like all irrational beings," answered Jukes. "I'll make a note.
+Rising out of hallucinations."
+
+"I will have my shilling," persisted Jamie. "Give me my shilling or
+I'll throw the ink at you."
+
+He caught up the ink-pot, and before Judith had time to interfere had
+flung it across the table, intending to hit Mr. Scantlebray, senior,
+but not hurt him, and the black fluid was scattered over Mr. Vokins's
+white trousers.
+
+"Bless my life!" exclaimed this gentleman, springing to his feet,
+pulling out his handkerchief to wipe away the ink, and only smearing
+it the more over his "ducks" and discoloring as well, his kerchief.
+"Bless my life--Jukes! a dangerous lunatic. Note at once. Clearly
+comes within the act. Clearly."
+
+In a few minutes all had left, and Judith was endeavoring to pacify
+her irritated brother. His fingers were blackened, and finally she
+persuaded him to go up-stairs and wash his hands clear of the ink.
+
+Then she ran into the adjoining room to Mr. Menaida. "Oh, dear Mr.
+Menaida!" she said, "what does this mean? Why have they been here?"
+
+Uncle Zachie looked grave and discomposed.
+
+"My dear," said he. "Those were doctors, and they have been here, sent
+by your aunt, to examine into the condition of Jamie's intellect, and
+to report on what they have observed. There was a little going beyond
+the law, perhaps, at first. That is why they took it so easily when
+you carried Jamie off. They knew you were with an old lawyer; they
+knew that you or I could sue for a writ of Habeas Corpus."
+
+"But do you really think--that Aunt Dionysia is going to have Jamie
+sent back to that man at Wadebridge?"
+
+"I am certain of it. That is why they came here to-day."
+
+"Can I not prevent it?"
+
+"I do not think so. If you go to law----"
+
+"But if they once get him, they will make an idiot or a madman of
+him."
+
+"Then you must see your aunt and persuade her not to send him there."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER.
+
+
+As Mr. Menaida spoke, Miss Dionysia Trevisa entered, stiff, hard, and
+when her eyes fell on Judith, they contracted with an expression of
+antipathy. In the eyes alone was this observable, for her face was
+immovable.
+
+"Auntie!" exclaimed Judith, drawing her into the sitting-room, and
+pressing her to take the arm chair.
+
+"Oh, Auntie! I have so longed to see you--there have been some
+dreadful men here--doctors I think--and they have been teasing Jamie,
+till they had worked him into one of his temper fits."
+
+"I sent them here, and for good reasons. Jamie is to go back to
+Wadebridge."
+
+"No--indeed no! auntie! do not say that. You would not say it if you
+knew all."
+
+"I know quite enough. More than is pleasing to me. I have heard of
+your outrageous and unbecoming conduct. Hoity! toity! To think that a
+Trevisa--but there you are one only in name--should go out at night,
+about the streets and lanes, like a common stray. Bless me! you might
+have knocked me down with a touch, when I was told of it."
+
+"I did nothing outrageous and unbecoming, aunt. You may be sure of
+that. I am quite aware that I am a Trevisa, and a gentlewoman, and
+something higher than that, aunt--a Christian. My father never let me
+forget that."
+
+"Your conduct was--well I will give it no expletive."
+
+"Aunt, I did what was right. I was sure that Jamie was unhappy and
+wanted me. I cannot tell you how I knew it, but I was certain of it,
+and I had no peace till I went; and, as I found the garden door open,
+I went in, and as I went in I found Jamie locked up in the cellars,
+and I freed him. Had you found him there, you would have done the
+same."
+
+"I have heard all about it. I want no repetition of a very scandalous
+story. Against my will I am burdened with an intolerable obligation,
+to look after an idiot nephew and a niece that is a self-willed and
+perverse Miss."
+
+"Jamie is no idiot," answered Judith, firmly.
+
+"Jamie is what those pronounce him to be, who by their age, their
+profession, and their inquiries are calculated to judge better than an
+ignorant girl, not out of her teens."
+
+"Auntie I believe you have been misinformed. Listen to me, and I will
+tell you what happened. As for those men----"
+
+"Those men were doctors. Perhaps they were misinformed when they went
+through the College of Surgeons, were misinformed by all the medical
+books they have read, were misdirected by all the study of the mental
+and bodily maladies of men they have made, in their professional
+course."
+
+"I wish, dear Aunt Dionysia, you would take Jamie to be with you a few
+weeks, talk to him, play with him, go walks with him, and you will
+never say that he is an idiot. He needs careful management, and also a
+little application----"
+
+"Enough of that theme," interrupted Miss Trevisa, "I have not come
+here to be drawn into an argument, or to listen to your ideas of the
+condition of that unhappy, troublesome, that provoking boy. I wish to
+heaven I had not the responsibility for him, that has been thrust on
+me, but as I have to exercise it, and there is no one to relieve me of
+it, I must do my best, though it is a great expense to me. Seventy
+pounds is not seventy shillings, nor is it seventy pence."
+
+"Aunt, he is not to go back to the asylum. He _must not_ go."
+
+"Hoity-toity! _must not_ indeed. You, a minx of eighteen to dictate to
+me! Must not, indeed! You seem to think that you, and not I, are
+Jamie's guardian."
+
+"Papa entrusted him to me with his last words."
+
+"I know nothing about last words. In his will I am constituted his
+guardian and yours, and as such I shall act as my convenience--conscience
+I mean, dictates."
+
+"But, Aunt! Jamie is not to go back to Wadebridge. Aunt! I entreat
+you! I know what that place is. I have been inside it, you have not.
+And just think of Jamie on the very first night being locked up
+there."
+
+"He richly deserved it, I will be bound."
+
+"Oh, Aunt! How could he? How could he?"
+
+"Of that Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray was the best judge. Why he had to be
+punished you do not know."
+
+"Indeed I do. He cried because the place was strange, and he was among
+strange faces. Aunt--if you were whipped off to Timbuctoo, and
+suddenly found yourself among savages, and in a rush apron, as the
+squaw of a black chief, or whatever they call their wives in Timbuctoo
+land, would you not scream?"
+
+"Judith," said Miss Trevisa, bridling up. "You forget yourself."
+
+"No, Aunt! I am only pleading for Jamie, trying to make you feel for
+him, when he was locked up in an asylum. How would you like it, Aunt,
+if you were snatched away to Barthelmy fair, and suddenly found
+yourself among tight-rope dancers, and Jack Puddings?"
+
+"Judith, I insist on you holding your tongue. I object to being
+associated even in fancy, with such creatures."
+
+"Well--but Jamie was associated, not in fancy, but in horrible
+reality, with idiots."
+
+"Jamie goes to Scantlebray's Asylum to-day."
+
+"Auntie!"
+
+"He is already in the hands of the brothers Scantlebray."
+
+"Oh, Auntie--no--no!"
+
+"It is no pleasure to me to have to find the money, you may well
+believe. Seventy pounds is not, as I said, seventy pence, it is not
+seventy farthings. But duty is duty, and however painful and
+unpleasant and costly, it must be performed."
+
+Then from the adjoining room, "the shop," came Mr. Menaida.
+
+"I beg pardon for an interruption and for interference," said he. "I
+happen to have overheard what has passed, as I was engaged in the next
+room, and I believe that I can make a proposal which will perhaps be
+acceptable to you, Miss Trevisa, and grateful to Miss Judith."
+
+"I am ready to listen to you," said Aunt Dionysia, haughtily.
+
+"It is this," said Uncle Zachie. "I understand that pecuniary matters
+concerning Jamie are a little irksome. Now the boy, if he puts his
+mind to it, can be useful to me. He has a remarkable aptitude for
+taxidermy. I have more orders on my hands than I can attend to. I am a
+gentleman, not a tradesman, and I object to be oppressed--flattened
+out--with the orders piled on top of me. But if the boy will help, he
+can earn sufficient to pay for his living here with me."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Menaida, dear Mr. Menaida! thank you so much," exclaimed
+Judith.
+
+"Perhaps you will allow me to speak," said Miss Trevisa, with
+asperity. "I am guardian, and not you, whatever you may think from
+certain vague expressions breathed casually from my poor brother's
+lips, and to which you have attached an importance he never gave to
+them."
+
+"Aunt, I assure you, my dear papa----"
+
+"That question is closed. We will not reopen it. I am a Trevisa. I
+can't for a moment imagine where you got those ideas. Not from your
+father's family, I am sure. Tight-rope dancers and Timbuctoos,
+indeed!" Then she turned to Mr. Menaida, and said, in her hard,
+constrained voice, as though she were exercising great moral control
+to prevent herself from snapping at him with her teeth. "Your proposal
+is kind and well intentioned, but I cannot accept it."
+
+"Oh, Aunt! why not?"
+
+"That you shall hear. I must beg you not to interrupt me. You are so
+familiar with the manners of Timbuctoo and of Barthelmy Fair, that you
+forget those pertaining to England and polished society." Then,
+turning to Mr. Menaida, she said: "I thank you for your
+well-intentioned proposal, which, however, it is not possible for me
+to close with. I must consider the boy's ulterior advantage, not the
+immediate relief to my sorely-taxed purse. I have thought proper to
+place Jamie with a person, a gentleman of experience, and highly
+qualified to deal with those mentally afflicted. However much I may
+value you, Mr. Menaida, you must excuse me for saying that firmness is
+not a quality you have cultivated with assiduity. Judith, my niece,
+has almost ruined the boy by humoring him. You cannot stiffen a jelly
+by setting it in the sun, or in a chair before the fire, and that is
+what my niece has been doing. The boy must be isinglassed into
+solidity by those who know how to treat him. Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray
+is the man----"
+
+"To manufacture idiots, madam, out of simple innocents, it is worth
+his while at seventy pounds a year," said Uncle Zachie, petulantly.
+
+Miss Trevisa looked at him stonily, and said: "Sir! I suppose you know
+best. But it strikes me that such a statement, relative to Mr. Obadiah
+Scantlebray, is actionable. But you know best, being a solicitor."
+
+Mr. Menaida winced and drew back.
+
+Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, trembling with anxiety and
+some anger. She thought that her aunt was acting in a heartless manner
+toward Jamie, that there was no good reason for refusing the generous
+offer of Uncle Zachie. In her agitation, unable to keep her fingers at
+rest, the girl played with the little chimney ornaments. She must
+occupy her nervous, twitching hands about something; tears of
+distressed mortification were swelling in her heart, and a fire was
+burning in two flames in her cheeks. What could she do to save Jamie?
+What would become of the boy at the asylum? It seemed to her that he
+would be driven out of his few wits, by terror and ill-treatment, and
+distress at leaving her and losing his liberty to ramble about the
+cliffs where he liked. In a vase on the chimney-piece was a bunch of
+peacock's feathers, and in her agitation, not thinking what she was
+about, desirous only of having something to pick at and play with in
+her hands, to disguise the trembling of the fingers, she took out one
+of the plumes and trifled with it, waving it and letting the light
+undulate over its wondrous surface of gold and green and blue.
+
+"As long as I have responsibility for the urchin----" said Miss
+Dionysia.
+
+"Urchin!" muttered Judith.
+
+"As long as I have the charge I shall do my duty according to my
+lights, though they may not be those of a rush-aproned squaw in
+Timbuctoo, nor of a Jack Pudding balancing a feather on his nose."
+There was here a spiteful glance at Judith. "When my niece has a home
+of her own--is settled into a position of security and comfort--then I
+wash my hands of the responsibility; she may do what she likes
+then--bring her brother to live with her if she chooses and her
+husband consents--that will be naught to me."
+
+"And in the mean time," said Judith, holding the peacock's feather
+very still before her, "in the mean time Jamie's mind is withered and
+stunted--his whole life is spoiled. Now--now alone can he be given a
+turn aright and toward growth."
+
+"That entirely depends on you," said Miss Trevisa, coldly. "You know
+best what opportunities have offered----"
+
+"Aunt, what do you mean?"
+
+"Wait," said Uncle Zachie, rubbing his hands. "My boy Oliver is coming
+home. He has written his situation is a good one now."
+
+Miss Trevisa turned on him with a face of marble. "I entirely fail to
+see what your son Oliver has to do with the matter, more than the man
+in the moon. May I trouble you, as you so deeply interest yourself in
+our concerns, to step outside to Messrs. Scantlebray and that boy, and
+ask them to bring him in here. I have told them what the circumstances
+are, and they are prepared."
+
+Mr. Menaida left the room, not altogether unwilling to escape.
+
+"Now," said Aunt Dionysia, "I am relieved to find that for a minute,
+we are by ourselves, not subjected to the prying and eavesdropping of
+the impertinent and meddlesome. Mr. Menaida is a man who never did
+good to himself or to anyone else in his life, though a man with the
+best intentions under the sun. Now, Judith, I am a plain woman--that
+is to say--not plain, but straightforward--and I like to have
+everything above board. The case stands thus. I, in my capacity as
+guardian to that boy, am resolved to consign him immediately to the
+asylum, and to retain him there as long as my authority lasts, though
+it will cost me a pretty sum. You do not desire that he should go
+there. Well and good. There is but one way, but that is effectual, by
+means of which you can free Jamie from restraint. Let me tell you he
+is now in the hands of Mr. Obadiah, and gagged that he may not rouse
+the neighborhood with his screams." Miss Trevisa fixed her hard eyes
+on Judith. "As soon as you take the responsibility off me, and on to
+yourself, you do with the boy what you like."
+
+"I will relieve you at once."
+
+"You are not in a condition to do so. As soon as I am satisfied that
+your future is secure, that you will have a house to call your own,
+and a certainty of subsistence for you both--then I will lay down my
+charge."
+
+"And you mean----"
+
+"I mean that you must first accept Captain Coppinger, who has been
+good enough to find you not intolerable. He is--in this one
+particular--unreasonable, however, he is what he is, in this matter.
+He makes you the offer, gives you the chance. Take it, and you provide
+Jamie and yourself with a home, he has his freedom, and you can manage
+or mismanage him as you list. Refuse the chance and Jamie is lodged in
+Mr. Scantlebray's establishment within an hour."
+
+"I cannot decide this on the spur of the moment."
+
+"Very well. You can let Jamie go provisionally to the asylum--and stay
+there till you have made up your mind."
+
+"No--no--no--Aunt! Never, never!"
+
+"As you will." Miss Trevisa shrugged her shoulders, and cast a glance
+at her niece like a dagger-stab.
+
+"Auntie--I am but a child."
+
+"That may be. But there are times when even children must decide
+momentous questions. A boy as a child decides on his profession, a
+girl--may be--on her marriage."
+
+"Oh, dear Auntie! Do leave Jamie here for, say a fortnight, and in a
+fortnight from to-day you shall have my answer."
+
+"No," answered Miss Trevisa, "I also must decide as to my future, for
+your decision affects not Jamie only but me also."
+
+Judith had listened in great self-restraint, holding the feather
+before her. She held it between thumb and forefinger of both hands,
+not concerning herself about it, and yet with her eyes watching the
+undulations from the end of the quill to the deep blue eye set in a
+halo of gold at the further end, and the feather undulated with every
+rise and fall of her bosom.
+
+"Surely, Auntie! You cannot wish me to marry Cruel Coppinger?"
+
+"I have no wishes one way or the other. Please yourself."
+
+"But, Auntie----"
+
+"You profess to be ready to do all you can for Jamie and yet hesitate
+about relieving me of an irksome charge, and Jamie of what you
+consider barbarous treatment."
+
+"You cannot be serious--_I_ to marry Captain Cruel!"
+
+"It is a serious offer."
+
+"But papa!--what would he say?"
+
+"I never was in a position to tell his thoughts and guess what his
+words would be."
+
+"But, Auntie--he is such a bad man."
+
+"You know a great deal more about him than I do, of course."
+
+"But--he is a smuggler, I do know that."
+
+"Well--and what of that. There is no crime in that."
+
+"It is not an honest profession. They say, too, that he is a wrecker."
+
+"They say!--who say? What do you know?"
+
+"Nothing, but I am not likely to trust my future to a man of whom such
+tales are told. Auntie! Would you, supposing that you were----"
+
+"I will have none of your suppositions, I never did wear a rush apron,
+nor act as Jack Pudding."
+
+"I cannot--Captain Cruel of all men."
+
+"Is he so hateful to you?"
+
+"Hateful--no; but I cannot like him. He has been kind, but--somehow I
+can't think of him as--as--as a man of our class and thoughts and
+ways, as one worthy of my own, own papa. No--it is impossible, I am
+still a child."
+
+She took the end of the peacock's feather, the splendid eye lustrous
+with metallic beauty, and bowed the plume without breaking it, and,
+unconscious of what she was doing, stroked her lips with it. What a
+fragile fine quill that was on which hung so much beauty? and how
+worthless the feather would be when that quill was broken. And so with
+her--her fine, elastic, strong spirit, that when bowed sprang to its
+uprightness the moment the pressure was withdrawn; that on which all
+her charm, her beauty hung.
+
+"Captain Coppinger has, surely, never asked you to put this
+alternative to me?"
+
+"No--I do it myself. As you are a child, you are unfit to take charge
+of your brother. When you are engaged to be married you are a woman; I
+shift my load on you then."
+
+"And you wish it?"
+
+"I repeat I have no wishes in the matter."
+
+"Give me time to consider."
+
+"No. It must be decided now--that is to say if you do not wish Jamie
+to be taken away. Don't fancy I want to persuade you; but I want to be
+satisfied about my own future. I shall not remain in Pentyre with you.
+As you enter by the front door, I leave by the back."
+
+"Where will you go?"
+
+"That is my affair."
+
+Then in at the door came the two Scantlebrays and Jamie between them,
+gagged and with his hands bound behind his back. He had run out,
+directly his examination was over, and had been secured, almost
+without resistance, so taken by surprise was he, and reduced to a
+condition of helplessness.
+
+Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, with every tinge of color gone
+out of her cheeks. Jamie's frightened eyes met hers, and he made a
+slight struggle to speak, and to escape to her.
+
+"You have a close conveyance ready for your patient?" asked Aunt
+Dionysia of the brothers.
+
+"Oh, yes, a very snug little box on wheels. Scanty and I will sit with
+our young man, to prevent his feeling dull, you know."
+
+"You understand, gentlemen, what I told you, that in the deciding
+whether the boy is to go with you or not, I am not the only one to be
+considered. If I have my will, go he shall, as I am convinced that
+your establishment is the very place for him; but my niece, Miss
+Judith, has at her option the chance of taking the responsibility for
+the boy off my shoulders, and if she chooses to do that, why then, I
+fear she will continue to spoil him, as she has done heretofore."
+
+"It has cost us time and money," said Scantlebray, senior.
+
+"And you shall be paid, whichever way is decided," said Miss Trevisa.
+"Every thing now rests with my niece."
+
+Judith seemed as one petrified. One hand was on her bosom, staying her
+heart, the other held the peacock's feather before her, horizontally.
+Every particle of color had deserted, not her face only, but her hands
+as well. Her eyes were sunless, her lips contracted and livid. She was
+motionless as a parian statue, she hardly seemed to breathe. She
+perfectly understood what her aunt had laid upon her, her bodily
+sensations were dead whilst a conflict of ideas raged in her brain.
+She was the arbiter of Jamie's fate. She did not disguise from herself
+that if consigned to the keeper of the asylum, though only for a week
+or two, he would not leave his charge the same as he entered. And what
+would it avail her or him to postpone the decision a week or a
+fortnight.
+
+The brothers Scantlebray knew nothing of the question agitating her,
+but they saw that the determination at which she was resolving was one
+that cost her all her powers. Mr. Obadiah's heavy mind did not exert
+itself to probe the secret, but the more eager intellect of his elder
+brother was alert, and wondering what might be the matter that so
+affected the girl, and made it so difficult for her to pronounce the
+decision. The hard eyes of Miss Trevisa were fixed on her. Judith's
+answer would decide her future--on it depended Othello Cottage, and an
+annuity of fifty pounds. Jamie looked through a veil of tears at his
+sister, and never for a moment turned them from her, from the moment
+of his entry into the room. Instinctively the boy felt that his
+freedom and happiness depended on her.
+
+One or the other must be sacrificed. That Judith saw Jamie was dull of
+mind, but there were possibilities of development in it. And, even if
+he remained where he was, he was happy, happy and really harmless, if
+a little mischievous; an offer had been made which was likely to lead
+him on into industrious ways, and to teach him application. He loved
+his liberty, loved it as does the gull. In an asylum he would pine,
+his mind become more enfeebled, and he would die. But then--what a
+price must be paid to save him? Oh, if she could have put the question
+to her father. But she had none to appeal to for advice. If she gave
+to Jamie liberty and happiness, it was at the certain sacrifice of her
+own. But there was no evading the decision, one or the other must go.
+
+She stretched forth the peacock's feather, laid the great indigo blue
+eye on the bands that held Jamie, on his gagged lips, and said: "Let
+him go."
+
+"You agree!" exclaimed Miss Trevisa.
+
+Judith doubled the peacock's feather and broke it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+THROUGH THE TAMARISKS.
+
+
+For some time after Judith had given her consent, and had released
+Jamie from the hands of the Scantlebrays, she remained still and
+white. Uncle Zachie missed the music to which he had become used, and
+complained. She then seated herself at the piano, but was distraught,
+played badly, and the old bird-stuffer went away grumbling to his
+shop.
+
+Jamie was happy, delighted not to be afflicted with lessons, and
+forgot past troubles in present pleasures. That the recovery of his
+liberty had been bought at a heavy price, he did not know, and would
+not have appreciated it had he been told the sacrifice Judith had been
+ready to make for his sake.
+
+In the garden behind the cottage was an arbor, composed of half a boat
+set up, that is to say, an old boat sawn in half, and erected so that
+it served as a shelter to a seat, which was fixed into the earth on
+posts. From one side of this boat a trellis had been drawn, and
+covered with eschalonia, and a seat placed here as well, so that in
+this rude arbor it was possible for more than one to find
+accommodation. Here Judith and Jamie often sat; the back of the boat
+was set against the prevailing wind from the sea, and on this coast
+the air is unusually soft at the same time that it is bracing,
+enjoyable wherever a little shelter is provided against its violence.
+For violent it can be, and can buffet severely, yet its blows are
+those of a pillow.
+
+Here Judith was sitting one afternoon, alone, lost in a dream, when
+Uncle Zachie came into the garden with his pipe in his mouth, to
+stretch his legs, after a few minutes' work at stuffing a cormorant.
+
+In her lap lay a stocking Judith was knitting for her brother, but she
+had made few stitches, and yet had been an hour in the summer-house.
+The garden of Mr. Menaida was hedged off from a neighbor's grounds by
+a low wall of stone and clay and sand, in and out of which grew
+roughly strong tamarisks now in their full pale pink blossom. The eyes
+of Judith had been on these tamarisks, waving like plumes in the
+sea-air, when she was startled from her reverie by the voice of Uncle
+Zachie.
+
+"Why, Miss Judith! What is the matter with you? Dull, eh? Ah--wait a
+bit, when Oliver comes home we shall have mirth. He is full of
+merriment. A bright boy and a good son; altogether a fellow to be
+proud of, though I say it. He will return at the fall."
+
+"I am glad to hear it, Mr. Menaida. You have not seen him for many
+years."
+
+"Not for ten."
+
+"It will be a veritable feast to you. Does he remain long in England?"
+
+"I cannot say. If his employers find work for him at home, then at
+home he will tarry, but if they consider themselves best served by him
+at Oporto, then to Portugal must he return."
+
+"Will you honor me by taking a seat near me--under the trellis?" asked
+Judith. "It will indeed be a pleasure to me to have a talk with you;
+and I do need it very sore. My heart is so full that I feel I must
+spill some of it before a friend."
+
+"Then indeed I will hold out both hands to catch the sweetness."
+
+"Nay--it is bitter, not sweet, bitter as gall, and briny as the
+ocean."
+
+"Not possible; a little salt gives savor."
+
+She shook her head, took up the stocking, did a couple of stitches,
+and put it down again. The sea-breeze that tossed the pink bunches of
+tamarisk waved stray tresses of her red-gold hair, but somehow the
+brilliancy, the burnish, seemed gone from it. Her eyes were sunken,
+and there was a greenish tinge about the ivory white surrounding her
+mouth.
+
+"I cannot work, dear Mr. Menaida; I am so sorry that I should have
+played badly that sonata last night. I knew it fretted you, but I
+could not help myself, my mind is so selfishly directed that I cannot
+attend to anything even of Beethoven's in music, nor to
+stocking-knitting even for Jamie."
+
+"And what are the bitter--briny thoughts?"
+
+Judith did not answer at once, she looked down into her lap, and Mr.
+Menaida, whose pipe was choked, went to the tamarisks and plucked a
+little piece, stripped off the flower and proceeded to clear the tube
+with it.
+
+Presently, while Uncle Zachie's eyes were engaged on the pipe, Judith
+looked up, and said hastily, "I am very young, Mr. Menaida."
+
+"A fault in process of rectification every day," said he, blowing
+through the stem of his pipe. "I think it is clear now."
+
+"I mean--young to be married."
+
+"To be married! Zounds!" He turned his eyes on her in surprise,
+holding the tamarisk spill in one hand and the pipe in the other,
+poised in the air.
+
+"You have not understood that I got Jamie off the other day only by
+taking full charge of him upon myself and relieving my aunt."
+
+"But--good gracious, you are not going to marry your brother."
+
+"My aunt would not transfer the guardianship to me unless I were
+qualified to undertake and exercise it properly, according to her
+ideas, and that could be only by my becoming engaged to be married to
+a man of substance."
+
+"Goodness help me! what a startlement! And who is the happy man to be?
+Not Scantlebray, senior, I trust, whose wife is dying."
+
+"No--Captain Coppinger."
+
+"Cruel Coppinger!" Uncle Zachie put down his pipe so suddenly on the
+bench by him that he broke it. "Cruel Coppinger! never!"
+
+She said nothing to this, but rose and walked, with her head down,
+along the bank, and put her hands among the waving pink bunches of
+tamarisk bloom, sweeping the heads with her own delicate hand as she
+passed. Then she came back to the boat arbor and reseated herself.
+
+"Dear me! Bless my heart! I could not have credited it," gasped Mr.
+Menaida, "and I had such different plans in my head--but there, no
+more about them."
+
+"I had to make my election whether to take him and qualify to become
+Jamie's guardian, or refrain, and then he would have been snatched
+away and imprisoned in that odious place again."
+
+"But, my dear Miss Judith--" the old man was so agitated that he did
+not know what he was about; he put the stick of tamarisk into his
+mouth in place of his pipe, and took it out to speak, put down his
+hand, picked up the bowl of his pipe, and tapped the end of the
+tamarisk spill with that; "mercy save me! What a world we do live in.
+And I had been building for you a castle--not in Spain, but in a
+contiguous country--who'd have thought it? And Cruel Coppinger, too!
+Upon my soul I don't want to say I am sorry for it, and I can't find
+in my heart to say I'm glad."
+
+"I do not expect that you will be glad--not if you have any love for
+me."
+
+The old man turned round, his eyes were watering and his face
+twitching.
+
+"I have, Heaven knows! I have--yes--I mean Miss Judith."
+
+"Mr. Menaida," said the girl, "you have been so kind, so considerate,
+that I should like to call you what every one else does--when speaking
+of you to one another--not to your face--Uncle Zachie."
+
+He put out his hand, it was shaking, and caught hers. He put the ends
+of the fingers to his lips; but he kept his face averted, and the
+water that had formed in his eyes ran down his cheeks. He did not
+venture to speak. He had lost command over his voice.
+
+"You see, uncle, I have no one of whom to ask counsel. I have only
+aunt, and she--somehow--I feel that I cannot go to her, and get from
+her the advice best suited to me. Now papa is dead I am entirely
+alone, and I have to decide on matters most affecting my own life, and
+that of Jamie. I do so crave for a friend who could give me an
+opinion--but I have no one, if you refuse."
+
+He pressed her hand.
+
+"Not that now I can go back from my word. I have passed that to Aunt
+Dionysia, and draw back I may not; but somehow, as I sit and think,
+and think, and try to screw myself up to the resolution that must be
+reached of giving up my hand and my whole life into the power of--of
+that man, I cannot attain to it. I feel like one who is condemned to
+cast himself down a precipice and shrinks from it, cannot make up his
+mind to spring, but draws back after every run made to the edge. Tell
+me--uncle--tell me truly, what do you think about Captain Coppinger?
+What do you know about him? Is he a very wicked man?"
+
+"You ask me what I think, and also what I know," said Mr. Menaida,
+releasing her hand. "I know nothing, but I have my thoughts."
+
+"Then tell me what you think."
+
+"As I have said, I know nothing. I do not know whence he comes. Some
+say he is a Dane, some that he is an Irishman. I cannot tell, I know
+nothing, but I think his intonation is Irish, and I have heard that
+there is a family of that name in Ireland. But this is all guesswork.
+One thing I do know, he speaks French like a native. Then, as to his
+character, I believe him to be a man of ungovernable temper, who, when
+his blood is roused will stick at nothing. I think him a man of very
+few scruples. But he has done liberal things--he is open-handed, that
+all say. A hard liver, and with a rough tongue, and yet with some of
+the polish of a gentleman; a man with the passions of a devil, but not
+without in him some sparks of divine light. That is what I think him
+to be. And if you ask me further, whether I think him a man calculated
+to make you happy--I say decidedly that he is not."
+
+Rarely before in his life had Mr. Menaida spoken with such decision.
+
+"He has been kind to me," said Judith. "Very kind."
+
+"Because he is in love with you."
+
+"And gentle--"
+
+"Have you ever done aught to anger him!"
+
+"Yes. I threw him down and broke his arm and collar-bone."
+
+"And won his heart by so doing."
+
+"Uncle Zachie, he is a smuggler."
+
+"Yes--there is no doubt about that."
+
+"Do you suppose if I were to entreat him that he would abandon
+smuggling? I have already had it in my heart to ask him this, but I
+could not bring the request over my lips."
+
+"I have no doubt if you asked him to throw up his smuggling that he
+would promise to do so. Whether he would keep his promise is another
+matter. Many a girl has made her lover swear to give up gambling, and
+on that understanding has married him; but I reckon none have been
+able to keep their husbands to the engagement. Gambling, smuggling,
+and poaching, my dear, are in the blood. A man brings the love of
+adventure, the love of running a risk, into the world with him. If I
+had been made by my wife to swear when I married never to touch a
+musical instrument, I might out of love for her have sworn, but I
+could not have kept my oath. And you--if you vowed to keep your
+fingers from needle and thread, and saw your gown in rags, or your
+husband's linen frayed--would find an irresistible itch in the finger
+ends to mend and hem, and you would do it, in spite of your vows. So
+with a gambler, a poacher, and a smuggler, the instinct, the passion
+is in them and is irresistible. Don't impose any promise on Captain
+Cruel, it will not influence him."
+
+"They tell me he is a wrecker."
+
+"What do you mean by a wrecker! We are all wreckers, after a storm,
+when a merchantman has gone to pieces on the rocks, and the shore is
+strewn with prizes. I have taken what I could, and I see no harm in
+it. When the sea throws treasures here and there, it is a sin not to
+take them up and use them and be thankful."
+
+"I do not mean that. I mean that he has been the means of luring ships
+to their destruction."
+
+"Of that I know nothing. Stories circulate whenever there is a wreck
+not in foul weather or with a wind on shore. But who can say whether
+they be true or false?"
+
+"And about that man, Wyvill. Did he kill him?"
+
+"There also I can say nothing, because I know nothing. All that can be
+said about the matter is that the Preventive man Wyvill was found at
+sea--or washed ashore without his head. A shark may have done it, and
+sharks have been found off our coast. I cannot tell. There is not a
+shadow of evidence that could justify an indictment. All that can be
+stated that makes against Coppinger is that the one is a smuggler, the
+other was a Preventive man, and that the latter was found dead and
+with his head off, an unusual circumstance, but not sufficient to show
+that he had been decapitated by any man, nor that the man who
+decapitated him was Coppinger."
+
+Then Mr. Menaida started up: "And--you sell yourself to this man for
+Jamie?"
+
+"Yes, uncle, to make a man of Jamie."
+
+"On the chance, Judith, on the very doubtful chance of making a man
+of Jamie, you rush on the certainty of making a ruin of yourself. That
+man--that Coppinger to be trusted with you! A fair little vessel,
+richly laden, with silken sail, and cedar sides, comes skimmering over
+the sea, and--Heaven forgive me if I judge wrongly--but I think he is
+a wrecker, enticing, constraining you on to the reefs where you will
+break up, and all your treasures will--not fall to him--but sink; and
+all that will remain of you will be a battered and broken hull, and a
+draggled discolored sail. I cannot--I cannot endure the thought."
+
+"Yet it must be endured, faced and endured by me," said Judith. "You
+are a cruel comforter, Uncle Zachie. I called you to encourage me, and
+you cast me down; to lighten my load, and you heap more on."
+
+"I can do no other," gasped Mr. Menaida. Then he sprang back, with
+open mouth, aghast. He saw Cruel Coppinger on the other side of the
+hedge, he had put his hands to the tamarisk bushes, and thrust them
+apart and was looking through.
+
+"Goldfish!" called Captain Coppinger, "Goldfish, come!"
+
+Judith knew the voice and looked in the direction whence it came, and
+saw the large hands of Coppinger holding back the boughs of tamarisk,
+his dark face in the gap. She rose at once and stepped toward him.
+
+"You are ill," he said, fixing his sombre eyes on her.
+
+"I am not ill in body. I have had much to harass my mind."
+
+"Yes, that Wadebridge business."
+
+"What has sprung out of it?"
+
+"Shall I come to you, or will you to me!--through the tamarisks?"
+
+"As you will, Captain Coppinger."
+
+"Come, then--up on to the hedge and jump--I will catch you in my arms.
+I have held you there ere this."
+
+"Yes, you have taken me up, now must I throw----" She did not finish
+the sentence; she meant, must she voluntarily throw herself into his
+arms?
+
+She caught hold of the bushes and raised herself to the top of the
+hedge.
+
+"By Heaven!" said he. "The tamarisk flowers have more color in them
+than your face."
+
+She stood on the summit of the bank, the tamarisks rising to her
+knees, waving in the wind about her. Must she resign herself to that
+man of whom she knew so little, whom she feared so greatly? There was
+no help for it. She must. He held out his arms. She sprang, and he
+caught her.
+
+"I have you now," he said, with a laugh of triumph. "You have come to
+me, and I will never give you up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS.
+
+
+Coppinger held her in his arms, shook her hair out that it streamed
+over his arm, and looked into her upturned face. "Indeed you are
+light, lighter than when I bore you in my arms before; and you are
+thin and white, and the eyes, how red. You have been crying. What!
+this spirit, strong as a steel spring, so subdued that it gives way to
+weeping!"
+
+Judith's eyes were closed against the strong light from the sky above,
+and against the sight of his face bent over hers, and the fire glint
+of his eyes, dark as a thundercloud and as charged with lightnings.
+And now there was a flashing of fire from them, of love and pride and
+admiration. The strong man trembled beneath his burden in the
+vehemence of his emotion. The boiling and paining of his heart within
+him, as he held the frail child in his arms, and knew she was to be
+his own, his own wholly, in a short space. It was for the moment to
+him as though all earth and sea and heaven were dissolved with
+nebulous chaos, and the only life--the only pulses in the
+universe--were in him and the little creature he held to his breast.
+He looked into her face, down on her as Vesuvius must have looked down
+on lovely, marble, white Pompeii, with its gilded roofs and
+incense-scented temples, and restrained itself, as long as restrain
+its molten heart it could, before it poured forth its fires and
+consumed the pearly city lying in its arms.
+
+He looked at her closed eyelids with the long golden lashes resting on
+the dark sunken dip beneath, at the delicate mouth drawn as with pain,
+at the white temples in which slowly throbbed the blue veins, at the
+profusion of red-gold hair streaming over his arm and almost touching
+the ground.
+
+She knew that his eyes--on fire--were on her, and she dared not meet
+them, for there would be a shrinking--from him, no responsive leap of
+flame from hers.
+
+"Shall I carry you about like this!" he asked. "I could and I would,
+to the world's end, and leap with you thence into the unfathomed
+abyss."
+
+Her head, leaning back on his arm, with the gold rain falling from it,
+exposed her long and delicate throat of exquisite purity of tint and
+beauty of modelling, and as it lay a little tuft of pink tamarisk
+blossom, brushed off in her lap into his arms, and then caught in the
+light edging of her dress, at the neck.
+
+"And you come to me of your own will?" he said.
+
+Then Judith slightly turned her head to avoid his eyes, and said, "I
+have come--it was unavoidable. Let me down, that we may speak
+together."
+
+He obeyed with reluctance. Then, standing before him, she bound up and
+fastened her hair.
+
+"Look!" said he, and threw open his collar. A ribbon was tied about
+his throat. "Do you see this?" He loosed the band and held it to her.
+One delicate line of gold ran along the silk, fastened to it by
+threads at intervals. "Your own hair. The one left with me when you
+first heard me speak of my heart's wish, and you disdained me and went
+your way. You left me that one hair, and that one hair I have kept
+wound round my neck ever since, and it has seemed to me that I might
+still have caught my goldfish, my saucy goldfish that swam away from
+my hook at first."
+
+Judith said calmly; "Let us walk together somewhere--to St. Enodoc, to
+my father's grave, and there, over that sand-heap we will settle what
+must be settled."
+
+"I will go with you where you will. You are my Queen, I your
+subject--it is my place to obey."
+
+"The subject has sometimes risen and destroyed the Queen; it has been
+so in France."
+
+"Yes, when the subject has been too hardly treated, too down-trodden,
+not allowed to look on and adore the Queen."
+
+"And," said Judith further, "let us walk in silence, allow me the
+little space between here and my father's grave to collect my
+thoughts, bear with me for that short distance."
+
+"As you will. I am your slave, as I have told you, and you my mistress
+have but to command."
+
+"Yes, but the slave sometimes becomes the master, and then is all the
+more tyrannous because of his former servitude."
+
+So they walked together, yet apart, from Polzeath to St. Enodoc,
+neither speaking, and it might have been a mourner's walk at a
+funeral. She held her head down, and did not raise her eyes from the
+ground, but he continued to gaze on her with a glow of triumph and
+exultation in his face.
+
+They reached at length the deserted church, sunken in the sands; it
+had a hole broken in the wall under the eaves in the south, rudely
+barricaded, through which the sacred building might be entered for
+such functions as a marriage, or the first part of the funeral office
+that must be performed in a church.
+
+The roof was of pale gray slate, much broken, folding over the rafters
+like the skins on the ribs of an old horse past work. The church-yard
+was covered with plain sand. Gravestones were in process of being
+buried like those whom they commemorated. Some peeped above the sand,
+with a fat cherub's head peering above the surface. Others stood high
+on the land side, but were banked up by sand toward the sea. Here the
+church-yard surface was smooth, there it was tossed with undulations,
+according as the sand had been swept over portions tenanted by the
+poor who were uncommemorated with head-stones, or over those where the
+well-to-do lay with their titles and virtues registered above them.
+
+There was as yet no monument erected over the grave of the Reverend
+Peter Trevisa, sometime rector of St. Enodoc. The mound had been
+turfed over and bound down with withes. The loving hands of his
+daughter had planted some of the old favorite flowers from the long
+walk at the rectory above where he lay, but they had not as yet taken
+to the soil, the sand ill agreed with them, and the season of the year
+when their translation had taken place dissatisfied them, and they
+looked forlorn, drooping, and doubted whether they would make the
+struggle to live.
+
+Below the church lay the mouths of the Camel, blue between sand-hills,
+with the Doom Bar, a long and treacherous band of shifting sands in
+the midst.
+
+On reaching the graveyard Judith signed to Captain Coppinger to seat
+himself on a flat tombstone on the south side of her father's grave,
+and she herself leaned against the headstone that marked her mother's
+tomb.
+
+"I think we should come to a thorough understanding," she said, with
+composure, "that you may not expect of me what I cannot give, and know
+the reason why I give you anything. You call me Goldfish. Why?"
+
+"Because of your golden hair."
+
+"No--that was not what sprung the idea in your brain, it was something
+I said to you, that you and I stood to each other in the relation of
+bird of prey to fish, belonging to distinct modes of life and manner
+of thinking, and that we could never be to one another in any other
+relation than that, the falcon and his prey, the flame and its fuel,
+the wreckers and the wrecked."
+
+Coppinger started up and became red as blood.
+
+"These are strange words," he said.
+
+"It is the same that I said before."
+
+"Then why have you given yourself to me?"
+
+"I have resigned myself to you, as I cannot help myself any more than
+the fish can that is pounced on by the sea-bird, or the fuel that is
+enveloped by the flame, or the ship that is boarded by the wrecker."
+
+She looked at him steadily; he was quivering with excitement, anger,
+and disappointment.
+
+"It is quite right that you should know what to expect, and make no
+more demands on me that I am capable of answering. You cannot ask of
+me that I should become like you, and I do not entertain the foolish
+thought that you could be brought to be like me--to see through my
+eyes, feel with my heart. My dead father lies between us now, and he
+will ever be between us--he a man of pure life, noble aspirations, a
+man of books, of high principle, fearing God and loving men. What he
+was he tried to make me. Imperfectly, faultily, I follow him, but
+though unable to be like him, I strive after what he showed me should
+be my ideal."
+
+"You are a child. You will be a woman, and new thoughts will come to
+you."
+
+"Will they be good and honorable and contented thoughts? Shall I find
+those in your house?"
+
+Coppinger did not reply, his brows were drawn together and his face
+became dark.
+
+"Why, then, have you promised to come to me?"
+
+"Because of Jamie."
+
+He uttered an oath, and with his hands clenched the upper stone of
+the tomb.
+
+"I have promised my aunt that I will accept you, if you will suffer my
+poor brother to live where I live, and suffer me to be his protector.
+He is helpless and must have someone to think and watch for him. My
+aunt would have sent him to Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray's asylum, and that
+would have been fatal to him. To save him from that I said that I
+would be yours, on the condition that my home should be his home. I
+have passed my word to my aunt, and I will not go from it, but that
+does not mean that I have changed my belief that we are unfitted for
+each other, because we belong to different orders of being."
+
+"This is cold comfort."
+
+"It is cold as ice, but it is all that I have to give to you. I wish
+to put everything plainly before you now, that there may be no
+misapprehension later, and you may be asking of me what I cannot give,
+and be angry at not receiving what I never promised to surrender."
+
+"So! I am only accepted for the sake of that boy, Jamie."
+
+"It is painful for me to say what I do--as painful as it must be for
+you to hear it, but I cannot help myself. I wish to put all boldly and
+hardly before you before an irrevocable step is taken such as might
+make us both wretched. I take you for Jamie's sake. Were his
+happiness, his well-being not in the scale, I would not take you. I
+would remain free."
+
+"That is plain enough," exclaimed Coppinger, setting his teeth, and he
+broke off a piece of the tombstone on which he was half sitting.
+
+"You will ask of me love, honor, and obedience. I will do my best to
+love you--like you I do now, for you have been kind and good to me,
+and I can never forget what you have done for me. But it is a long
+leap from liking to loving, still I will try my best, and if I fail it
+will not be for lack of effort. Honor is another matter. That lies in
+your own power to give. If you behave as a good and worthy man to your
+fellows, and justly toward me, of course I shall honor you. I must
+honor what is deserving of honor, and where I honor there I may come
+to love. I cannot love where I do not honor, so perhaps I may say that
+my heart is in your hands, and that if those hands are clean and
+righteous in their dealings it may become yours some time. As to
+obedience--that you shall command. That I will render to you frankly
+and fully in all things lawful."
+
+"You offer me an orange from which all the juice has been squeezed, a
+nut without a kernel."
+
+"I offer you all I have to offer. Is it worth your while having this?"
+
+"Yes!" said he angrily, starting up, "I will have what I can and wring
+the rest out of you, when once you are mine."
+
+"You never will wring anything out of me. I give what I may, but
+nothing will I yield to force."
+
+He looked at her sullenly and said, "A child in years with an old head
+and a stony heart."
+
+"I have always lived with my father, and so have come to think like
+one that is old," said Judith, "and now, alone in the world, I must
+think with ripened wits."
+
+"I do not want that precocious, wise soul, if that be the kernel. I
+will have the shell--the glorious shell. Keep your wisdom and
+righteousness and piety for yourself. I do not value them a rush. But
+your love I will have."
+
+"I have told you there is but one way by which that may be won. But
+indeed, Captain Coppinger, you have made a great mistake in thinking
+of me. I am not suited to you to make you happy and content; any more
+than you are suited to me. Look out for some girl more fit to be your
+mate."
+
+"Of what sort? Come, tell me!" said Coppinger scornfully.
+
+"A fine, well-built girl, dark-haired, dark-eyed, with cheeks like
+apricots, lively in mood, with nimble tongue, good-natured, not
+bookish, not caring for brush or piano, but who can take a rough word
+and return it; who will not wince at an oath, and shrink away at
+coarse words flung about where she is. All these things you know very
+well must be encountered by your wife, in your house. Did you ever
+read 'Hamlet,' Captain Coppinger?"
+
+He made no answer, he was plucking at the slab-cover of the tomb and
+grinding his heels into the sand.
+
+"In 'Hamlet,' we read of a king poisoned by his queen, who dipped the
+juice of cursed hebenon into his ears, and it curdled all his blood.
+It is the same with the sort of language that is found in your house
+when your seamen are there. I cannot endure it, it curdles my
+heart--choose a girl who is indifferent."
+
+"You shall not be subjected to it," said Coppinger, "and as to the
+girl you have sketched--I care not for her--such as you describe are
+to be found thick as whortle-berries on a moor. Do you not know that
+man seeks in marriage not his counterpart but his contrast? It is
+because you are in all things different from me that I love you."
+
+"Then will naught that I have said make you desist?"
+
+"Naught."
+
+"I have told you that I take you only so as to be able to make a home
+for Jamie."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And that I do not love you and hardly think I can ever."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And still you will have me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And that by taking me you wreck my life--spoil my happiness."
+
+He raised his head, then dropped it again and said, "Yes."
+
+She remained silent, also looking on the ground. Presently she raised
+her head and said: "I gave you a chance, and you have cast it from
+you. I am sorry."
+
+"A chance? What chance?"
+
+"The chance of taking a first step up the ladder in my esteem."
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"Therefore I am sorry."
+
+"What is your meaning?"
+
+"Captain Coppinger," said Judith, firmly, looking straight into his
+dark face and flickering eyes, "I am very, very sorry. When I told you
+that I accepted your offer only because I could not help myself,
+because I was a poor, feeble orphan, with a great responsibility laid
+on me, the charge of my unfortunate brother; that I only accepted you
+for his sake when I told you that I did not love you, that our
+characters, our feelings were so different that it would be misery to
+me to become your wife--that it would be the ruin of my life,
+then--had you been a man of generous soul, you would have said--I will
+not force myself upon you, but I will do one thing for you, assist you
+in protecting Jamie from the evil that menaces him. Had you said that
+I would have honored you, and as I said just now, where I honor, there
+I may love. But you could not think such a thought, no such generous
+feeling stirred you. You held me to my bond."
+
+"I hold you to your bond," exclaimed Coppinger, in loud rage. "I hold
+you, indeed. Even though you can neither love nor honor me, you shall
+be mine. You likened me to a bird of prey that must have its prey or
+die, to a fire--and that must have its fuel--to a wrecker, and he must
+have his wreck, I care not. I will have you as mine, whether you love
+me or not."
+
+"So be it, then," said Judith, sadly. "You had your opportunity and
+have put it from you. We understand each other. The slave is
+master--and a tyrant."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+A DANGEROUS GIFT.
+
+
+"I do love a proper muddle, cruel bad, I do," said Jump, and had what
+she loved, for the preparations for Judith's marriage threw Mr.
+Menaida's trim cottage into a "proper muddle." There were the cakes to
+be baked, and for a while the interior of the house was pervaded by
+that most delicious aroma of baking bread superior to frangipani,
+jockey club, and wood violet. Then came the dusting, and after that
+the shaking and beating of the rugs and sofa and chairs. Then it was
+discovered that the ceilings and walls would be the better for white
+and color-wash. This entailed the turning out of every thing
+previously dusted and tidied and arranged. Neither Mr. Menaida nor
+Jump had any other idea of getting things into order than throwing all
+into a muddle in the hopes that out of chaos, exactness and order
+might spring.
+
+A dressmaker had been engaged and material purchased, for the
+fabrication of a trousseau. This naturally interested Jamie vastly,
+and Jump paid repeated visits to the dressmaker, whilst engaged on her
+work. On one such occasion she neglected the kitchen and allowed some
+jam to become burnt. On another she so interested the needlewoman and
+diverted her attention from her work, whilst cutting out that the
+latter cut out two right arms to the wedding gown. This involved a
+difficulty, as it was not practicable either to turn the one sleeve,
+and convert it into a left arm, nor to remove Judith's left arm and
+attach it to the right side of her body, and so accommodate her to the
+gown. The mercer at Camelford was communicated with, from whom the
+material had been procured, but he was out of it, he however was in
+daily expectation of a consignment of more of the same stuff. A
+fortnight later he was able to supply the material, sufficient for a
+left sleeve, but unfortunately of a different color. The gown had to
+be laid aside till some one could be found of Judith's size and
+figure with two right arms, and also who wanted a wedding dress, and
+also would be disposed to take this particular one at half the cost of
+the material, or else to let the gown stand over till after the lapse
+of a century or thereabouts, when the fashion would prevail for ladies
+to wear sleeves of a different substance and color from their bodies
+and skirts.
+
+"'Taint a sort o' a courtin' as I'd give a thankee for," said Jump.
+"There was Camelford goose fair, and whether he axed her to go wi' him
+and pick a goose I can't tell, but I know her never went. Then o'
+Sundays they don't walk one another out. And he doesn't come arter her
+to the back garden, and she go to him, and no whisperings and
+kissings. I've listened a score o' times a hoping and a wishing to see
+and hear the likes, and never once as I'm a Christian and a female.
+There were my sister Jane, when she was going to be married, her got
+that hot and blazin' red that I thought it were scarletine, but it was
+naught but excitement. But the young mistress, bless 'ee, her gets
+whiter and colder every day, and I'd say, if such a thing were
+possible, that her'd rather her never was a going to be married. But
+you see that ain't in natur', leastways wi' us females. I tell 'ee I
+never seed him once put his arm round her waist. If this be courtin'
+among gentlefolks, all I say is preserve and deliver me from being a
+lady."
+
+It was as Jump, in her vulgar way, put it. Judith alone in the house
+appeared to take no interest in the preparations. It was only after a
+struggle with her aunt that she had yielded to have the wedding in
+November. She had wished it postponed till the spring, but Cruel
+Coppinger and Aunt Dionysia were each for their several ends desirous
+to have it in the late autumn. Coppinger had the impatience of a
+lover; and Miss Trevisa the desire to be free from a menial position
+and lodged in her new house before winter set in. She had amused
+herself over Othello Cottage ever since Judith had yielded her
+consent, and her niece saw little of her accordingly.
+
+It suited Coppinger's interest to have a tenant for the solitary
+cottage, and that a tenant who would excite no suspicions, as the
+house was employed as a store for various run goods, and it was
+understood between him and Miss Trevisa, that he was still to employ
+the garret for the purposes that suited him.
+
+Had Othello Cottage remained long unoccupied, it was almost certain to
+attract the attention of the Preventive men, awake their suspicions,
+and be subjected to a visit. Its position was convenient, it was on
+the cliff of that cove where was the cave in which the smugglers'
+boats were concealed.
+
+Coppinger visited Polzeath and saw Judith whenever he came to Mr.
+Menaida's house, but his wooing met with no response. She endured his
+attentions, shrinking from the slightest approach to familiarity, and
+though studiously courteous was never affectionate. It would take a
+heavy charge of self-conceit to have made the Captain blind to the
+fact that she did not love him, that in truth she viewed her
+approaching marriage with repugnance. Coppinger was a proud, but not a
+conceited man, and her coldness and aversion aroused his anger, for it
+galled his pride. Had he been a man of noble impulse, he would have
+released her, as she had already told him, but he was too selfish, too
+bent on carrying out his own will to think of abandoning his suit.
+
+Her lack of reciprocation did not abate his passion, it aggravated it.
+It enlisted his self-esteem in the cause, and he would not give her
+up, because he had set his mind upon obtaining her, and to confess his
+defeat would have been a humiliation insufferable to his haughty
+spirit. But it was not merely that he would not, it was also that he
+could not. Coppinger was a man who had, all his life long, done what
+he willed, till his will had become in him the mainspring of his
+existence, and drove him to execute his purposes in disregard of
+reason, safety, justice, and opposition. He would eat out his own
+furious heart in impotent rage, if his will were encountered by
+impossibility of execution. And he was of a sanguine temperament.
+Hitherto every opposition had been overthrown before him, therefore he
+could not conceive that the heart of a young girl, a mere child, could
+stand out against him permanently. For a while it might resist, but
+ultimately it must yield, and then the surrender would be absolute,
+unconditional.
+
+Every time he came to see her, he came with hopes, almost with
+confidence, that the icy barrier would dissolve, but when in her
+presence the chill from it struck him, numbed his heart, silenced his
+tongue, deadened his thoughts. Yet no sooner was he gone from the
+house, than his pulses leaped, his brain whirled, and he was consumed
+with mortified pride and disappointed love. He could not be rough,
+passionate or imperious with her. A something he could not understand,
+certainly not define, streamed from her that kept him at a distance
+and quelled his insolence. It was to him at moments as if he hated
+her; but this hate was but the splutter of frustrated love. He
+recalled the words she had spoken to him, and the terms she had
+employed in speaking of the relation in which they stood to each
+other, the only relations to her conceivable in which they could stand
+to each other, and each such word was a spark of fire, a drop of
+flaming phosphorus on his heart, torturing it with pain, and
+unquenchable. A word once spoken can never be recalled, and these
+words had been thrown red hot at him, had sunk in and continued to
+consume where they had fallen. He was but a rapacious bird and she the
+prey, he the fire and she the fuel, he the wrecker and she the wreck.
+There could be no reciprocity between them, the bird in the talons of
+the hawk, rent by his beak could do no other than shiver and shriek
+and struggle to be free. The fuel could but expect to be consumed to
+ashes in the flames; and the wrecked must submit to the wrecker. He
+brooded over these similes, he chafed under the conviction that there
+was truth in them, he fought against the idea that a return of his
+love was impossible--and then his passion raged and roared up in a
+fury that was no other than hatred of the woman who could not be his
+in heart. Then, in another moment, he cooled down, and trusted that
+what he dreaded would not be. He saw before him the child, white as a
+lily, with hair as the anthers of the lily--so small, so fragile, so
+weak; and he laughed to think that one such, with no experience of
+life, one who had never tasted love, could prove insensible to his
+devouring passion. The white asbestos in the flame glows, and never
+loses its delicacy and its whiteness.
+
+And Judith was, as Jump observed, becoming paler and more silent as
+her marriage drew on. The repugnance with which she had viewed it
+instead of abating intensified with every day. She woke in the night
+with a start of horror, and a cold sweat poured from her. She clasped
+her hands over her eyes and buried her face in her pillow and
+trembled, so that the bed rattled. She lost all appetite. Her throat
+was contracted when she touched food. She found it impossible to turn
+her mind to the preparations that were being made for her wedding, she
+suffered her aunt to order for her what she liked, she was indifferent
+when told of the blunder made by the dressmaker in her wedding-gown.
+She could not speak at meals. When Mr. Menaida began to talk, she
+seemed to listen, but her mind was elsewhere. She resumed lessons with
+Jamie, but was too abstracted to be able to teach effectually. A
+restlessness took hold of her and impelled her to be out of doors and
+alone. Any society was painful to her, she could endure only to be
+alone; and when alone, she did nothing save pluck at her dress, or rub
+her fingers one over the other--the tricks and convulsive movements of
+one on the point of death.
+
+But she did not yield to her aversion without an effort to accustom
+herself to the inevitable. She rehearsed to herself the good traits
+she had observed in Coppinger, his kindness, his forbearance toward
+herself, she took cognizance of his efforts to win her regard, to
+afford her pleasure, his avoidance of everything that he thought might
+displease her. And when she knew he was coming to visit her, she
+strove with herself; and formed the resolution to break down the
+coldness, and to show him some of that semblance of affection which he
+might justly expect. But it was in vain. No sooner did she hear his
+step, or the first words he uttered, no sooner did she see him, than
+she turned to stone, and the power to even feign an affection she did
+not possess left her. And when Coppinger had departed, there was
+stamped red hot on her brain the conviction that she could not
+possibly endure life with him.
+
+She prayed long and often, sometimes by her father's grave, always in
+bed when lying wakeful, tossing from side to side in anguish of mind;
+often, very often when on the cliffs looking out to sea, to the dark,
+leaden, sullen sea, that had lost all the laughter and color of
+summer. But prayer afforded her no consolation. The thought of
+marriage to such a man, whom she could not respect, whose whole nature
+was inferior to her own, was a thought of horror. She could have
+nerved herself to death by the most excruciating of torments, but for
+this, not all the grace of heaven could fortify her.
+
+To be his mate, to be capable of loving him, she must descend to his
+level, and that she neither could nor would do. His prey, his fuel,
+his wreck--that she must become, but she could be nothing
+else--nothing else. As the day of her marriage approached her nervous
+trepidation became so acute that she could hardly endure the least
+noise. A strange footfall startled her and threw her into a paroxysm
+of trembling. The sudden opening of a door made her heart stand still.
+
+When her father had died, poignant though her sorrow had been, she had
+enjoyed the full powers of her mind. She had thought about the
+necessary preparations for the funeral, she had given orders to the
+servants, she had talked over the dear father to Jamie, she had wept
+his loss till her eyes were red. Not so now; she could not turn her
+thoughts from the all-absorbing terror; she could not endure an
+allusion to it from anyone, least of all to speak of it to her
+brother, and the power to weep was taken from her. Her eyes were dry;
+they burnt, but were unfilled by tears.
+
+When her father was dead she could look forward, think of him in
+paradise, and hope to rejoin him after having trustily executed the
+charge imposed on her by him. But now she could not look ahead. A
+shadow of horror lay before her, an impenetrable curtain. Her father
+was covering his face, was sunk in grief in his celestial abode; he
+could not help her. She could not go to him with the same open brow
+and childish smile as before. She must creep to his feet, and lay her
+head there, sullied by association with one against whom he had warned
+her, one whom he had regarded as the man that had marred his sacred
+utility, one who stood far below the stage of virtue and culture that
+belonged to his family and on which he had firmly planted his child.
+What was in her heart Judith could pour out before none; certainly not
+before Aunt Dionysia, devoid of a particle of sympathy with her niece.
+Nor could she speak her trouble to Uncle Zachie, a man void of
+resources, kind, able for a minute or two to sympathize, but never to
+go deeply into any trouble and understand more of a wound than the
+fester on the surface. Besides, of what avail to communicate the
+anguish of her heart to anyone, when nothing could be done to alter
+the circumstances. She could not now draw back. Indeed it never
+occurred to her to be possible to go back from her undertaking. To
+save Jamie from an idiot asylum she had passed her word to give her
+hand at the altar to Cruel Coppinger, and her word was sacred. Aunt
+Dionysia trusted her word. Coppinger held to it, knowing that she gave
+it on compulsion and reluctantly, yet he showed his perfect confidence
+in its security.
+
+"My dear Judith," said Mr. Menaida, "I am so sorry about losing you,
+and what is more, losing Jamie, for I know very well that when he is
+at the Glaze he will find plenty to amuse him without coming to see
+me, or anyhow, coming to work with me."
+
+"I hope not, dear uncle."
+
+"Yes, I lose a promising pupil." Then turning to the boy, he said:
+"Jamie, I hope you will not give up stuffing birds, or, if you have
+not the patience to do that, that you will secure the skins and
+prepare them for me."
+
+"Yes, I will," said Jamie.
+
+"Yes, yes, my dear boy," said Menaida, "but don't you fancy I am going
+to trust you with arsenic for preparing the skins. I shall give that
+to your sister and she will keep the supply, eh, will you not,
+Judith?"
+
+"Yes. I will take charge of it."
+
+"And let him have it as needed; never more than is needed."
+
+"Why not?" asked Jamie.
+
+"Because it is a dangerous thing to have lying about." Menaida ran
+into the workshop, and came back with a small tin box of the poison.
+"Look here! here is a little bone spoon. Don't get the powder over
+your fingers. Why, a spoonful would make a man very ill, and two would
+kill him. So, Judith, I trust this to you. When Jamie has a skin to
+prepare he will go to you, and you will let him have only so much as
+he requires."
+
+"Yes, uncle."
+
+She took the little tin of arsenic and put it in her workbox, under
+the tray that contained reels and needles.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+HALF A MARRIAGE.
+
+
+One request Judith had made, relative to her marriage, and one only,
+after she had given way about the time when it was to take place, and
+this request concerned the place. She desired to be married, not in
+the parish church of S. Minver, but in that of S. Enodoc, in the yard
+of which lay her father and mother, and in which her father had
+occasionally ministered.
+
+It was true that no great display could be made in a building
+half-filled with sand, but neither Judith nor Coppinger, nor Aunt
+Dionysia desired display, and Jump, the sole person who wished that
+the wedding should be in full gala, was not consulted in the matter.
+
+November scowled over sea and land, perverting the former into lead
+and blighting the latter to a dingy brown.
+
+The wedding-day was sad. Mist enveloped the coast, wreathed the
+cliffs, drifted like smoke over the glebe, and lay upon the ocean,
+dense and motionless, like a mass of cotton-wool. Not a smile of sun,
+not a glimmer of sky, not a trace of outline in the haze overhead. The
+air was full of minute particles of moisture flying aimlessly, lost to
+all sense of gravity, in every direction. The mist had a fringe but no
+seams, and looked as if it were as unrendable as felt. It trailed over
+the soil, here lifting a ragged flock or tag of fog a few feet above
+the earth, there dropping it again and smearing water over all it
+touched. Vapor condensed on every twig and leaf, but only leisurely,
+and slowly dripped from the ends of thorns and leaves; but the weight
+of the water on some of the frosted and sickly foliage brought the
+leaves down with it. Every stone in every wall was lined with trickles
+of water like snail crawls. The vapor penetrated within doors, and
+made all articles damp, of whatever sort they were. Fires were
+reluctant to kindle, chimneys smoked. The grates and irons broke out
+into eruptions of rust, mildew appeared on walls, leaks in roofs. The
+slate floors became dark and moist. Forks and spoons adhered to the
+hands of those who touched them, and on the keys of Mr. Menaida's
+piano drops formed.
+
+What smoke did escape from a chimney trailed down the roof. Decomposed
+leaves exhaled the scent of decay. From every stack-yard came a musty
+odor of wet straw and hay. Stable yards emitted their most fetid
+exudations that oozed through the gates and stained the roads. The
+cabbages in the kail-yards touched by frost announced that they were
+in decomposition, and the turnips that they were in rampant
+degeneration and rottenness. The very seaweed washed ashore
+impregnated the mist with a flavor of degeneration.
+
+The new rector, the Reverend Desiderius Mules had been in residence at
+St. Enodoc for three months. He had received but a hundred and
+twenty-seven pounds four and ninepence farthing for dilapidations, and
+was angry, declared himself cheated, and vowed he would never employ
+the agent Cargreen any more. And a hundred and twenty-seven pounds
+four and ninepence farthing went a very little way in repairing and
+altering the rectory to make it habitable to the liking of the
+Reverend Desiderius. The Reverend Peter Trevisa and his predecessors
+had been West Country men, and as such loved the sun, and chose to
+have the best rooms of the house with a southern aspect. But the
+Reverend Desiderius Mules had been reared in Barbadoes, and hated the
+sun, and elected to have the best rooms of the house to look north.
+This entailed great alterations. The kitchen had to be converted into
+parlor, and the parlor into kitchen, the dining-room into scullery,
+and the scullery into study, and the library enlarged to serve as
+dining-room. All the down-stairs windows had to be altered. Mr.
+Desiderius Mules liked to have French windows opening to the ground.
+
+In the same manner great transformations were made in the garden.
+Where Mr. Peter Trevisa had built up and planted a hedge there Mr.
+Desiderius Mules opened a gate, and where the late rector had laid
+down a drive there the new rector made garden beds. In the same manner
+shrubberies were converted into lawns, and lawns into shrubberies.
+The pump was now of no service outside the drawing-room window; it had
+to be removed to the other side of the house, and to serve the pump
+with water a new well had to be dug, and the old well that had
+furnished limpid and wholesome water was filled up. The site of the
+conservatory was considered the proper one for the well, and this
+entailed the destruction of the conservatory. Removal was intended,
+with a new aspect to the north, as a frigidarium, but when touched it
+fell to pieces, and in so doing furnished Mr. Desiderius Mules with
+much comment on the imposition to which he had been subjected, for he
+had taken this conservatory at a valuation, and that valuation had
+been for three pounds seven and fourpence ha'penny, whereas its real
+value was, so he declared, three pounds seven and fourpence without
+the ha'penny at the end or the three pounds before.
+
+When the Reverend Desiderius Mules heard that Captain Coppinger and
+Judith Trevisa were to be married in his church, "By Jove," said he,
+"they shall pay me double fees as extra parochial. I shall get that
+out of them at all events. I have been choused sufficiently."
+
+A post-chaise from Wadebridge conveyed Judith, Miss Trevisa, Uncle
+Zachie, and Jamie from Polzeath.
+
+The bride was restless. At one moment she leaned back, then forward;
+her eyes turned resolutely through the window at the fog. Her hands
+plucked at her veil or at her gloves; she spoke not a word throughout
+the drive. Aunt Dionysia was also silent. Opposite her sat Mr. Menaida
+in blue coat with brass buttons, white waistcoat outside a colored
+one, and white trousers tightly strapped. Though inclined to talk, he
+was unable to resist the depressing influence of his vis-a-vis, Miss
+Trevisa, who sat scowling at him with her thin lips closed. Jamie was
+excited, but as no one answered him when he spoke he also lapsed into
+silence.
+
+When the church-yard gate of St. Enodoc was reached, Mr. Menaida
+jumped out of the chaise with a sigh of relief, and muttered to
+himself that, had he known what to expect, he would have brought his
+pocket-flask with him, and have had a nip of cognac on the way.
+
+A good number of sight-seers had assembled from Polzeath and St.
+Enodoc, and stood in the church-yard, magnified by the mist to
+gigantic size. Over the graves of drowned sailors were planted the
+figure-heads of wrecked vessels, and these in the mist might have been
+taken as the dead risen and mingling with the living to view this
+dreary marriage.
+
+The bride herself looked ghostlike, or as a waft of the fog, but
+little condensed, blown through the graveyard toward the gap in the
+church wall, and blown through that also within.
+
+That gap was usually blocked with planks from a wreck, supported by
+beams; when the church was to be put in requisition, then the beams
+were knocked away, whereupon down clattered the boards and they were
+tossed aside. It had been so done on this occasion, and the fragments
+were heaped untidily among the graves under the church wall. The
+clerk-sexton had, indeed, considered that morning, with his hands in
+his pockets, whether it would be worth his while, assisted by the five
+bell-ringers, to take this accumulation of wreckage and pile it
+together out of sight, but he had thought that, owing to the fog, a
+veil would be drawn over the disorder, and he might be saved this
+extra trouble.
+
+Within the sacred building, over his boots in sand, stamped, and
+frowned, and paced, and growled the Reverend Desiderius Mules, in
+surplice, hood, and stole, very ill at ease and out of humor because
+the wedding-party arrived unpunctually, and he feared he might catch
+cold from the wind and fog that drifted in through the hole in the
+wall serving as door.
+
+The sand within was level with the sills of the windows; it cut the
+tables of commandments in half; had blotted away the majority of
+inhibitions against marriage within blood relationship and marriage
+kinship. The altar-rails were below the surface. The altar-table had
+been fished up and set against the east wall, not on this day for the
+marriage, but at some previous occasion. Then the sexton had placed
+two pieces of slate under the feet on one side, and not having found
+handy any other pieces, had thought that perhaps it did not matter.
+Consequently the two legs one side had sunk in the sand, and the
+altar-table formed an incline.
+
+A vast number of bats occupied the church, and by day hung like little
+moleskin purses from the roof. Complaints had been made of the
+disagreeableness of having these creatures suspended immediately over
+the head of the officiant, accordingly the sexton had knocked away
+such as were suspended immediately above the altar and step--a place
+where the step was, beneath the sand; but he did not think it
+necessary to disturb those in other parts of the church. If they
+inconvenienced others, it was the penalty of curiosity, coming to see
+a wedding there. Toward the west end of the church some wooden
+pew-tops stood above the sand, and stuck into a gimlet-hole in the top
+rail of one was a piece of holly, dry and brown as a chip. It had been
+put there as a Christmas decoration the last year that the church was
+used for divine worship, at the feast of Noel; _when_ that was, only
+the oldest men could remember. The sexton had looked at it several
+times with his hands in his pockets and considered whether it were
+worth while pulling his hands out and removing the withered fragment,
+and carrying it outside the church, but had arrived at the conclusion
+that it injured no one, and might therefore just as well remain.
+
+There were fragments of stained glass in the windows, in the upper
+light of the perpendicular windows saints and angels in white and gold
+on ruby and blue grounds. In one window a fragment of a Christ on the
+cross. But all were much obscured by cobwebs. The cobwebs, after
+having entangled many flies, caught and retained many particles of
+sand, became impervious to light and obscured the figures in the
+painted glass. The sexton had looked at these cobwebs occasionally and
+mused whether it would be worth his while to sweep them down, but as
+he knew that the church was rarely used for divine offices, and never
+for regular divine worship, he deemed that there was no crying
+necessity for their destruction. Life was short, and time might be
+better employed--to whit in talking to a neighbor, in smoking a pipe,
+in drinking a pint of ale, in larruping his wife, in reading the
+paper. Consequently the cobwebs remained.
+
+Had Mr. Desiderius Mules been possessed of antiquarian tastes, he
+might have occupied the time he was kept waiting in studying the
+bosses of carved oak that adorned the wagon-roof of the church, which
+were in some cases quaint, in the majority beautiful, and no two the
+same. And he might have puzzled out the meaning of three rabbits with
+only three ears between them forming a triangle, or three heads united
+in one neck, a king, a queen, a bishop and a monk, or of a sow
+suckling a dozen little pigs.
+
+But Mr. Desiderius Mules had no artistic or archaeological faculty
+developed in him. His one object on the present occasion was to keep
+draught and damp from the crown of his head, where the hair was so
+scanty as hardly to exist at all. He did not like to assume his hat in
+the consecrated building, so he stamped about in the sand holding a
+red bandanna handkerchief on the top of his head, and grumbling at the
+time he was kept waiting, at the Cornish climate, at the way in which
+he had been "choused" in the matter of dilapidations for the chancel
+of the church, at the unintelligible dialect of the people, and at a
+good many other causes of irritation, notably at a bat which had not
+reverenced his bald pate, when he ventured beyond the range of the
+sexton's sweeping.
+
+Presently the clerk, who was outside, thrust in his head through the
+gap in the wall, and in a stage whisper announced, "They's a-coming."
+
+The Reverend Mules growled, "There ought to be a right to charge extra
+when the parson is kept waiting--sixpence a minute, not a penny less.
+But we are choused in this confounded corner of the world in every
+way. Ha! there is a mildew-spot on my stole--all come of this
+villainous damp."
+
+In the tower stood five men, ready to pull the ropes and sound a merry
+peal when the service was over, and earn a guinea. They had a firkin
+of ale in a corner, with which to moisten their inner clay between
+each round. Now that they heard that the wedding party had arrived
+they spat on their hands and heaved their legs out of the sand.
+
+Through the aperture in the wall entered the bridal party, a cloud of
+fog blowing in with them and enveloping them. They stepped laboriously
+through the fine sand, at this place less firm than elsewhere, having
+been dug into daily by the late rector in his futile efforts to clear
+the church.
+
+Mr. Mules cast a suspicious look into the rafters above him to see
+that no profane bat was there, and opened his book.
+
+Mr. Menaida was to act as father to the bride, and there was no other
+bride's-maid than Miss Trevisa. As they waded toward the alter,
+Judith's strength failed, and she stood still. Then Uncle Zachie put
+his arm round her and half carried her over the sand toward the place
+where she must stand to give herself away. She turned her head and
+thanked him with her eyes, she could not speak. So deathly was her
+whiteness, so deficient in life did she seem, that Miss Trevisa looked
+at her with some anxiety, and a little doubt whether she would be able
+to go through the service.
+
+When Judith reached her place, her eyes rested on the sand. She did
+not look to her left side, she could hear no steps, for the sand
+muffled all sound of feet, but she knew by the cold shudder that
+thrilled through her, that Captain Coppinger was at her side.
+
+"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here--now then order, if you
+please, and quiet, we are twenty-five minutes after time," said Mr.
+Desiderius Mules.
+
+The first few words, seven in all were addressed to the wedding party,
+the rest to a number of men and women and children who were stumbling
+and plunging into the church through the improvised door, thrusting
+each other forward, with a "get along," and "out of the road," all
+eager to secure a good sight of the ceremony, and none able to hurry
+to a suitable place because of the sand that impeded every step.
+
+"Now then--I can't stay here all day!"
+
+Mr. Mules sniffed and applied the bandanna to his nose, as an
+indication that he was chilled, and that this rheum would be on the
+heads of the congregation, were he made ill by this delay.
+
+"Dearly beloved, we are gathered," he began again, and he was now able
+to proceed.
+
+"Cruel," said he in loud and emphatic tones, "wilt thou have this
+woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in
+the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor,
+and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep
+thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?"
+
+The response of Coppinger went through the heart of Judith like a
+knife. Then the rector addressed her. For answer she looked up at him
+and moved her lips. He took her hand and placed it in that of
+Coppinger. It was cold as ice and quivering like an aspen leaf. As
+Captain Coppinger held it, it seemed to drag and become heavy in his
+hand, whilst he pronounced the words after the rector, making oath to
+take Judith as his own. Then the same words were recited to her, for
+her to repeat in order after the priest. She began, she moved her
+lips, looked him pleadingly in the face, her head swam, the fog filled
+the whole church and settled between her and the rector. She felt
+nothing save the grip of Coppinger's hand, and sank unconscious to the
+ground.
+
+"Go forward," said Cruel. Mr. Menaida and Aunt Dionysia caught Judith
+and held her up. She could neither speak nor stir. Her lips were
+unclosed, she seemed to be gasping for breath like one drowning.
+
+"Go on," persisted Cruel, and holding her left hand he thrust the ring
+on her fourth finger, repeating the words of the formula.
+
+"I cannot proceed," said the Reverend Desiderius.
+
+"Then you will have to come again to-morrow."
+
+"She is unconscious," objected the rector.
+
+"It is momentary only," said Aunt Dionysia; "be quick and finish."
+
+Mr. Mules hesitated a moment. He had no wish to return in like weather
+on another day; no wish again to be kept waiting five and twenty
+minutes. He rushed at the remainder of the office and concluded it at
+a hand gallop.
+
+"Now," said he, "the registers are at the rectory. Come there."
+
+Coppinger looked at Judith.
+
+"Not to-day. It is not possible. She is ill--faint. To-morrow. Neither
+she nor I nor the witnesses will run away. We will come to you
+to-morrow."
+
+Uncle Zachie offered to assist Judith from the church.
+
+"No," said Cruel, peremptorily, "she is mine now."
+
+She was able with assistance to walk, she seemed to recover for a
+moment in the air outside, but again lapsed into faintness on being
+placed in the chaise.
+
+"To Pentyre Glaze," ordered Coppinger; "our home."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+A BREAKFAST.
+
+
+"She has been over-exerted, over-excited," said Miss Trevisa. "Leave
+her to recover; in a few days she will be herself again. Remember, her
+father died of heart complaint, and though Judith resembles her mother
+rather than a Trevisa, she may have inherited from my brother just
+that one thing she had better have let him carry to his grave with
+him."
+
+So Judith was given the little room that adjoined her aunt's, and Miss
+Trevisa postponed for a week her migration to Othello Cottage.
+
+Aunt Dionysia was uneasy about her niece; perhaps her conscience did
+suffer from some qualms when she saw how Judith shrank from the union
+she had driven her into for her own selfish convenience. She treated
+her in the wisest manner, now she had brought her to the Glaze, for
+she placed her in her old room next her own, and left her there to
+herself. Judith could hear her aunt walking about and muttering in the
+adjoining chamber, and was content to be left alone to recover her
+composure and strength.
+
+Uncle Zachie and Jump were, however, in sore distress; they had made
+the trim cottage ready, had prepared a wedding breakfast, engaged a
+helping hand or two, and no one had come to partake. Nor was Mr.
+Desiderius Mules in a cheerful mood. He had been invited to the
+breakfast, and was hungry and cold. He had to wait while Mr. Menaida
+ran up to Pentyre to know whether any one was going to honor his
+board. While he was away the rector stamped about the parlor, growling
+that he believed he was about to be "choused out of his breakfast.
+There was really no knowing what these people in this out-of-the-world
+corner might do." Then he pulled off his boots and shook the sand out,
+rang for Jump, and asked at what hour precisely the breakfast was to
+be eaten, and whether it was put on table to be looked at only.
+
+From Pentyre Glaze Mr. Menaida was not greatly successful in obtaining
+guests. He found some wild-looking men there in converse with
+Coppinger, men whom he knew by rumor to belong to a class that had no
+ostensible profession and means of living.
+
+Mr. Menaida had ordered in clotted cream, which would not keep sweet
+many days. It ought to be eaten at once. He wanted to know whether
+Coppinger, the bride, Miss Trevisa, anyone was coming to his house to
+consume the clotted cream. As Jamie was drifting about purposeless,
+and he alone seemed disposed to accompany Uncle Zachie, the old
+gentleman carried him off.
+
+"I s'pose I can't on the spur of the moment go in and ask over St.
+Minver parson?" asked Menaida, dubiously, of the St. Enodoc parson.
+"You see I daresay he's hurt not to have had the coupling of 'em
+himself."
+
+"Most certainly not," said Mr. Mules; "an appetite is likely to go
+into faintness unless attended to at once. I know that the coats of my
+stomach are honeycombed with gastric juice. Shall I say grace? Another
+half-hour of delay will finish me."
+
+Consequently but three persons sat down to a plentiful meal; but some
+goose, cold, had hardly been served, when in came Mr. Scantlebray, the
+agent, with a cheery salutation of "Hulloa, Menaida, old man! What,
+eating and drinking? I'll handle a knife and fork with you, unasked.
+Beg pardon, Mr. Mules. I'm a rough man, and an old acquaintance of our
+good friend here. Hope I see you in the enjoyment of robust health,
+sir. Oh, Menaida, old man! I didn't expect such a thing as this. Now I
+begin to see daylight, and understand why I was turned out of the
+valuership, and why my brother lost this promising young pupil. Ah,
+ha! my man, you have been deprived of fun, such fun, roaring fun, by
+not being with my brother Scanty. Well, sir," to Mr. Mules, "what was
+the figure of the valuation? You had a queer man on your side. I pity
+you. A man I wouldn't trust myself. I name no names. Now tell me, what
+did you get?"
+
+"A hundred and twenty-seven pounds four and ninepence farthing.
+Monstrous--a chouse."
+
+"As you say, monstrous. Why that chancel, show me the builder who
+will contract to do that alone at a hundred and twenty-seven pounds?
+And the repairs of the vestry--are they to be reckoned at four and
+ninepence farthing? It is a swindle. I'd appeal. I'd refuse. You made
+a mistake, sir, let me tell you, in falling into certain hands.
+Yes--I'll have some goose, thank you."
+
+Mr. Scantlebray ate heartily, so did the Reverend Desiderius, who had
+the honeycomb cells of his stomach coats to fill.
+
+Both, moreover, did justice to Mr. Menaida's wine, they did not spare
+it; why should they? Those for whom the board was spread had not
+troubled to come to it, and they must make amends for their neglect.
+
+"Horrible weather," said the rector. "I suppose this detestable sort
+of stuff of which the atmosphere is composed is the prevailing
+abomination one has to inhale throughout three-quarters of the year.
+One cannot see three yards before one."
+
+"It's bad for some and good for others," answered Scantlebray.
+"There'll be wrecks, certainly, after this, especially if we get, as
+we are pretty sure to get, a wind ashore."
+
+"Wrecks!" exclaimed the Rector, "and pray who pays the fees for
+drowned men I may be expected to bury?"
+
+"The parish," answered Uncle Zachie.
+
+"Oh, half-a-crown a head," said Mr. Mules, contemptuously.
+
+"There are other things to be had besides burial fees out of a wreck,"
+said Scantlebray; "but you must be down early before the coast-guard
+are there. Have you donkeys?"
+
+"Donkeys! What for?"
+
+"I have one, a gray beauty," exclaimed Jamie; "Captain Coppinger gave
+her to me."
+
+"Well, young man, then you pick up what you can, when you have the
+chance, and lade her with your findings. You'll pick up something
+better than corpses, and make something more than burial half-crowns."
+
+"But why do you suppose there will be wrecks?" inquired the rector of
+St. Enodoc. "There is no storm."
+
+"No storm, certainly, but there is fog, and in the fog vessels coming
+up the Channel to Bristol get lost as to their bearings, get near our
+cliffs without knowing it, and then--if a wind from the west spring up
+and blows rough--they are done for, they can't escape to the open.
+That's it, old man. I beg your Reverence's pardon, I mean, sir. When I
+said that such weather was bad for some and good for others you can
+understand me now--bad for the wrecked, good for the wreckers."
+
+"But surely you have no wreckers here?"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray laughed. "Go and tell the bridegroom that you think
+so. I'll let you into the knowledge of one thing"--he winked over his
+glass--"there's a fine merchantman on her way to Bristol."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Know! Because she was sighted off St. Ives, and the tidings has run
+up the coast like fire among heather. I don't doubt it that it has
+reached Hartland by this; and with a thick fog like to-day there are a
+thousand hearts beating with expectation. Who can say? She may be
+laden with gold-dust from Africa, or with tin from Barca, or with port
+from Oporto."
+
+"My boy Oliver is coming home," said Mr. Menaida.
+
+"Then let's hope he is not in this vessel, for, old man, she stands a
+bad chance in such weather as this. There is Porth-quin, and there is
+Hayle Bay ready to receive her, or Doom Bar on which she may run, all
+handy for our people. Are you anything of a sportsman, sir?"
+
+"A little--but I don't fancy there is much in this precious
+country--no cover."
+
+"What is fox-hunting when you come to consider--or going after a snipe
+or a partridge? A fox! it's naught, the brush stinks, and a snipe is
+but a mouthful. My dear sir, if you come to live among us, you must
+seek your sport not on the land but at sea. You'll find the sport
+worth something when you get a haul of a barrel of first-rate sherry,
+or a load of silver ingots. Why, that's how Penwarden bought his farm.
+He got the money after a storm--found it on the shore out of the
+pocket of a dead man. Do you know why the bells of St. Enodoc are so
+sweet? Because, so folks say, melted into them are ingots of Peruvian
+silver from a ship wrecked on Doom Bar."
+
+"I should like to get some silver or gold," said Jamie.
+
+"I daresay you would, and so perhaps you may if you look out for it.
+Go to your good friend, Captain Coppinger, and tell him what you want.
+He has made his pickings before now on shore and off wrecks, and has
+not given up the practice."
+
+"But," said Mr. Mules, "do you mean to tell me that you people in this
+benighted corner of the world live like sharks, upon whatever is cast
+overboard?"
+
+"No, I do not," answered Scantlebray. "We have too much energy and
+intelligence for that. We don't always wait till it is cast overboard,
+we go aboard and take what we want."
+
+"What, steal!"
+
+"I don't call that stealing when Providence and a southwest wind
+throws a ship into our laps, when we put in our fingers and pick out
+the articles we want. What are Porth-quin and Hayle Bay but our laps,
+in which lie the wrecks heaven sends us? And Doom Bar, what is that
+but a counter on which the good things are spread, and those first
+there get the first share?"
+
+"And pray," said Mr. Desiderius Mules, "have the owners of the
+vessels, the passengers, the captains, no objections to make?"
+
+"They are not there. Don't wait for our people. If they do--so much
+the worse for them." Then Scantlebray laughed. "There's a good story
+told of the Zenobia, lost four years ago. There was a lady on board.
+When she knew the vessel was on Doom Bar she put on all her jewelry,
+to escape with it. But some of our people got to the wreck before she
+got off it, and one lobe of her ears got torn off."
+
+"Torn off?"
+
+"Yes--in pulling the earrings off her."
+
+"But who pulled the earrings off her?"
+
+"Our people."
+
+"Gracious heavens! Were they not brought to justice?"
+
+"Who did it? no one knew. What became of the jewelry? no one knew. All
+that was known was that Lady Knighton--that was her name--lost her
+diamonds and the lobe of her right ear as well."
+
+"And it was never recovered?"
+
+"What! the lobe of her ear?"
+
+"No, the jewelry."
+
+"Never."
+
+"Upon my word I have got among a parcel of scoundrels. It is high time
+that I should come and reform them. I'll set to work at once. I'll
+have St. Enodoc dug out and restored, and I'll soon put an end to this
+sort of thing."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"You don't know me. I'll have a bazaar. I'll have a ball in the
+Assembly Rooms at Wadebridge. The church shall be excavated. I'm not
+going in there again with the bats, to have my boots filled with sand,
+I can tell you--everything shall be renovated and put to rights. I'll
+see to it at once. I'll have a pigeon shooting for the sake of my
+chancel--I daresay I shall raise twenty pounds by that alone--and a
+raffle for the font, and an Aunt Sally for the pulpit. But the ball
+will be the main thing, I'll send and get the county people to
+patronize. I'll do it, and you barbarians in this benighted corner of
+the world shall see there is a man of energy among you."
+
+"You'd best try your hand on a wreck. You'll get more off that."
+
+"And I'll have a bran pie for an altar-table."
+
+"You won't get the parishioners to do anything for the restoration of
+the church. They don't want to have it restored."
+
+"The Decalogue is rotten. I ran my umbrella through the Ten
+Commandments this morning. I'll have a gypsy camp and fortune-telling
+to furnish me with new Commandments."
+
+"I've heard tell," said Scantlebray, "that at Ponghill, near Stratton,
+is a four-post bed of pure gold came off a wreck in Bude Bay."[C]
+
+    [C] An exaggeration. The bed of seventeenth century Italian
+    work, is gilt. It is now in a small farmhouse.
+
+"When I was in the North," said the rector of St. Enodoc, "we had a
+savage who bit off the heads of rats, snap, skinned them and ate them
+raw, and charged sixpence entrance; but that was for the missionaries.
+I should hardly advocate that for the restoration of a church;
+besides, where is the savage to be got? We made twenty-seven pounds by
+that man, but expenses were heavy and swallowed up twenty-five; we
+sent two pounds to the missionaries."
+
+Mr. Menaida stood up and went to the window.
+
+"I believe the wind has shifted to the north, and we shall have a
+lightening of the fog after sunset."
+
+"Shall we not have a wreck! I hope there'll be one," said Jamie.
+
+"What is the law about wreckage, Menaida, old man?" asked Scantlebray,
+also coming to the window.
+
+"The law is plain enough. No one has a right to goods come to land; he
+who finds may claim salvage--naught else; and any persons taking goods
+cast ashore, which are not legal wreck, may be punished."
+
+"And," said Scantlebray, "what if certain persons give occasion to a
+ship being wrecked, and then plundering the wreck?"
+
+"There the law is also plain. The invading and robbing of a vessel,
+either in distress or wrecked, and the putting forth of false lights
+in order to bring a vessel into danger, are capital felonies."
+
+Scantlebray went to the table, took up a napkin, twisted it and then
+flung it round his neck, and hung his head on one side.
+
+"What--this, Menaida, old man?"
+
+Uncle Zachie nodded.
+
+"Come here, Jim, my boy, a word with you outside." Scantlebray led
+Jamie into the road. "There's been a shilling owing you for some time.
+We had roaring fun about it once. Here it is. Now listen to me. Go to
+Pentyre, you want to find gold-dust on the shore, don't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Or bars of silver?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, beg Captain Coppinger, if he is going to have a Jack o' Lantern
+to-night, to let you be the Jack. Do you understand? and mind--not a
+word about me. Then gold-dust and bars of silver and purses of
+shillings. Mind you ask to be Jack o' Lantern. It is fun. Such fun.
+Roaring fun."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+JACK O' LANTERN.
+
+
+Evening closed in; Judith had been left entirely to herself. She sat
+in the window, looking out into the mist and watching the failing of
+the light. Sometimes she opened the casement and allowed the vapor to
+blow in like cold steam, then became chilled, shivered, and closed it
+again. The wind was rising and piped about the house, piped at her
+window. Judith, sitting there, tried with her hand to find the crevice
+through which the blast drove, and then amused herself with playing
+with her finger-tops on the openings and regulating the whistle so as
+to form a tune. She heard frequently Coppinger's voice in
+conversation, sometimes in the hall, sometimes in the court-yard, but
+could not catch what was spoken. She listened, with childish
+curiosity, to the voice that was now that of her lord and husband, and
+endeavored to riddle out of it some answer to her questions as to what
+sort of a master he would prove. She could not comprehend him. She had
+heard stories told of him that made her deem him the worst of men,
+remorseless and regardless of others, yet toward her he had proved
+gentle and considerate. What, for instance, could be more delicate and
+thoughtful than his behavior to her at this very time! Feeling that
+she had married him with reluctance, he had kept away from her and
+suffered her to recover her composure without affording her additional
+struggle. A reaction after the strain on her nerves set in; the step
+she had dreaded had been taken, and she was the wife of the man she
+feared and did not love. The suspense of expectation was exchanged for
+the calmer grief of retrospect.
+
+The fog all day had been white as wool, and she had noticed how
+parcels of vapor had been caught and entangled in the thorn bushes as
+the fog swept by, very much as sheep left flocks of their fleece in
+the bushes when they broke out of a field. Now that the day set, the
+vapor lost its whiteness and became ash gray, but it was not as dense
+as it had been, or rather it was compacted in places into thick masses
+with clear tracts between. The sea was not visible, nor the cliffs,
+but she could distinguish out-buildings, tufts of furze and hedges.
+The wind blew much stronger, and she could hear the boom of the waves
+against the rocks, like the throbbing of the unseen heart of the
+world. It was louder than it had been. The sound did not come upon the
+wind, for the fog that muffled all objects from sight, muffled also
+all sounds to the ear, but the boom came from the vibration of the
+land. The sea flung against the coast-line shook the rocks, and they
+quivered for a long distance inland, making every wall and tree quiver
+also, and the sound of the sea was heard not through the ears but
+through the soles of the feet.
+
+Miss Trevisa came in.
+
+"Shall I light you a pair of candles, Judith?"
+
+"I thank you, hardly yet."
+
+"And will you not eat?"
+
+"Yes, presently, when supper is served."
+
+"You will come down-stairs?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I am glad to hear that."
+
+"Aunt, I thought you were going to Othello Cottage the day I came
+here."
+
+"Captain Coppinger will not suffer me to leave at once till you have
+settled down to your duties as mistress of the house."
+
+"Oh, auntie! I shall never be able to manage this large
+establishment."
+
+"Why not! You managed that at the rectory."
+
+"Yes, but it was so different."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"My dear papa's requirements were so simple, and so few, and there
+were no men about except old Balhachet, and he was a dear, good old
+humbug. Here, I don't know how many men there are, and who belong to
+the house, and who do not. They are in one day and out the next--and
+then Captain Coppinger is not like my own darling papa."
+
+"No, indeed, he is not. Shall I light the candles? I have something to
+show you."
+
+"As you will, aunt."
+
+Miss Trevisa went into her room and fetched a light, and kindled the
+two candles that stood on Judith's dressing-table.
+
+"Oh, aunt! not three candles."
+
+"Why not? We shall need light."
+
+"But three candles together bring ill-luck; and we have had enough
+already."
+
+"Pshaw! Don't be a fool. I want light, for I have something to show
+you."
+
+She opened a small box and drew forth a brooch and earrings that
+flashed in the rays of the candle.
+
+"Look, child! they are yours. Captain Coppinger has given them to you.
+They are diamonds. See--a butterfly for the breast, and two little
+butterflies for the ears."
+
+"Oh, auntie! not for me. I do not want them."
+
+"This is ungracious. I daresay they cost many hundreds of pounds. They
+are diamonds."
+
+Judith took the brooch and earrings in her hand; they sparkled. The
+diamonds were far from being brilliants, they were of good size and
+purest water.
+
+"I really do not want to have them. Persuade Captain Coppinger to
+return them to the jeweller, it is far too costly a gift for me,
+far--far--I should be happier without them." Then, suddenly--"I do not
+know that they have been bought? Oh, Aunt Dunes, tell me truly. Have
+they been bought? I think jewellers always send out their goods in
+leather cases, and there is none such for these. And see--this
+earring--the gold is bent, as if pulled out of shape. I am sure they
+have not been bought. Take them back again, I pray you."
+
+"You little fool!" said Miss Trevisa, angrily. "I will do nothing of
+the kind. If you refuse them--then take them back yourself. Captain
+Coppinger performs a generous and kind act that costs him much money,
+and you throw his gift in his face, you insult him. Insult him
+yourself with your suspicions and refusals--you have already behaved
+to him outrageously. I will do nothing for you that you ask. Your
+father put on me a task that is hateful, and I wish I were clear of
+it."
+
+Then she bounced out of the room, leaving her candle burning along
+with the other two.
+
+A moment later she came back hastily and closed Judith's shutters.
+
+"Oh, leave them open," pleaded Judith. "I shall like to see how the
+night goes--if the fog clears away."
+
+"No--I will not," answered Miss Trevisa, roughly. "And mind you. These
+shutters remain shut, or your candles go out. Your window commands
+the sea, and the light of your window must not show."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because should the fog lift, it would be seen by vessels."
+
+"Why should they not see it?"
+
+"You are a fool. Obey, and ask no questions."
+
+Miss Trevisa put up the bar and then retired with her candle, leaving
+Judith to her own thoughts, with the diamonds on the table before her.
+
+And her thoughts were reproachful of herself. She was ungracious and
+perhaps unjust. Her husband had sent her a present of rare value, and
+she was disposed to reject it, and charge him with not having come by
+the diamonds honestly. They were not new from a jeweller, but what of
+that? Could he afford to buy her a set at the price of some hundreds
+of pounds? And because he had not obtained them from a jeweller, did
+it follow that he had taken them unlawfully? He might have picked them
+up on the shore, or have bought them from a man who had. He might have
+obtained them at a sale in the neighborhood. They might be family
+jewels, that had belonged to his mother, and he was showing her the
+highest honor a man could show a woman in asking her to wear the
+ornaments that had belonged to his mother.
+
+He had exhibited to her a store-room full of beautiful things, but
+these might be legitimately his, brought from foreign countries by his
+ship the Black Prince. It was possible that they were not contraband
+articles.
+
+Judith opened her door and went down-stairs. In the hall she found
+Coppinger with two or three men, but the moment he saw her he started
+up, came to meet her, and drew her aside into a parlor, then went back
+into the hall and fetched candles. A fire was burning in this room,
+ready for her, should she condescend to use it.
+
+"I hope I have not interrupted you," she said, timidly.
+
+"An agreeable interruption. At any time you have only to show yourself
+and I will at once come to you, and never ask to be dismissed."
+
+She knew that this was no empty compliment, that he meant it from the
+depth of his heart, and was sorry that she could not respond to an
+affection so deep and so sincere.
+
+"You have been very good to me--more good than I deserve," she said,
+standing by the fire with lowered eyes, "I must thank you now for a
+splendid and beautiful present, and I really do not know how to find
+words in which fittingly to acknowledge it."
+
+"You cannot thank and gratify me better than by wearing what I have
+given you."
+
+"But when? Surely not on an ordinary evening?"
+
+"No--certainly. The Rector has been up this afternoon and desired to
+see you, he is hot on a scheme for a public ball to be given at
+Wadebridge for the restoration of his church, and he has asked that
+you will be a patroness."
+
+"I--oh--I!--after my father's death?"
+
+"That was in the late spring, and now it is the early winter, besides,
+now you are a married lady--and was not the digging out and restoring
+of the church your father's strong desire?"
+
+"Yes--but he would never have had a ball for such a purpose."
+
+"The money must be raised somehow. So I promised for you. You could
+not well refuse--he was impatient to be off to Wadebridge and secure
+the assembly rooms."
+
+"But--Captain Coppinger--"
+
+"Captain Coppinger?"
+
+Judith colored. "I beg your pardon--I forgot. And now--I do not
+recollect what I was going to say. It matters nothing. If you wish me
+to go I will go. If you wish me to wear diamond butterflies I will
+wear them."
+
+"I thank you." He held out his hands to her.
+
+She drew back slightly and folded her palms as though praying. "I will
+do much to please you, but do not press me too greatly. I am strange
+in this house, strange in my new situation; give me time to breathe
+and look round and recover my confidence. Besides, we are only
+half-married so far."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"I have not signed the register."
+
+"No, but that shall be done to-morrow."
+
+"Yes, to-morrow--but that gives me breathing time. You will be patient
+and forbearing with me." She put forward her hands folded and he put
+his outside them and pressed them. The flicker of the fire lent a
+little color to her cheeks and surrounded her head with an aureole of
+spun gold.
+
+"Judith, I will do anything you ask. I love you with all my soul, past
+speaking. I am your slave. But do not hold me too long in chains, do
+not tread me too ruthlessly under foot."
+
+"Give me time," she pleaded.
+
+"I will give you a little time," he answered.
+
+Then she withdrew her hands from between his and sped up stairs,
+leaving him looking into the fire with troubled face.
+
+When she returned to her room the candles were still burning, and the
+diamonds lay on the dressing-table where she had left them. She took
+the brooch and earrings to return them to their box, and then noticed
+for the first time that they were wrapped in paper, not in
+cotton-wool. She tapped at her aunt's door, and entering asked if she
+had any cotton-wool that she could spare her.
+
+"No, I have not. What do you want it for?"
+
+"For the jewelry. It cannot have come from a shop, as it was wrapped
+in paper only."
+
+"It will take no hurt. Wrap it in paper again."
+
+"I had rather not, auntie. Besides, I have some cotton-wool in my
+workbox."
+
+"Then use it."
+
+"But my workbox has not been brought here. It is at Mr. Menaida's."
+
+"You can fetch it to-morrow."
+
+"But I am lost without my needles and thread. Besides, I do not like
+to leave my workbox about. I will go for it. The walk will do me
+good."
+
+"Nonsense, it is falling dark."
+
+"I will get Uncle Zachie to walk back with me. I must have my workbox.
+Besides, the fresh air will do me good, and the fog has lifted."
+
+"As you will, then."
+
+So Judith put on her cloak and drew a hood over her head and went back
+to Polzeath. She knew the way perfectly, there was no danger, night
+had not closed in. It would be a pleasure to her to see the old
+bird-stuffer's face again, and she wanted to find Jamie. She had not
+seen him nor heard his voice, and she supposed he must be at Polzeath.
+
+On her arrival at the double cottage, the old fellow was delighted to
+see her, and to see that she had recovered from the distress and
+faintness of the morning sufficiently to be able to walk back to his
+house from her new home. Her first question was after Jamie. Uncle
+Zachie told her that Jamie had breakfasted at his table, but he had
+gone away in the afternoon and he had seen no more of him. The fire
+was lighted, and Uncle Zachie insisted on Judith sitting by it with
+him and talking over the events of the day, and on telling him that
+she was content with her position, reconciled to the change of her
+state.
+
+She sat longer with him than she had intended, listening to his
+disconnected chatter, and then nothing would suffice him but she must
+sit at the piano and play through his favorite pieces.
+
+"Remember, Judith, it is the last time I shall have you here to give
+me this pleasure."
+
+She could not refuse him his request, especially as he was to walk
+back to Pentyre with her. Thus time passed, and it was with alarm and
+self-reproach that she started up on hearing the clock strike the
+half-past, and learned that it was half-past nine, and not half-past
+eight, as she supposed.
+
+As she now insisted on departing, Mr. Menaida put on his hat.
+
+"Shall we take a light?" he asked, and then said: "No, we had better
+not. On such a night as this a moving light is dangerous."
+
+"How can it be dangerous?" asked Judith.
+
+"Not to us, my dear child, but to ships at sea. A stationary light
+might serve as a warning, but a moving light misleads. The captain of
+a vessel, if he has lost his bearings, as is like enough in the fog,
+as soon as the mist rises, would see a light gliding along and think
+it was that of a vessel at sea, and so make in the direction of the
+light in the belief that there was open water, and so run directly on
+his destruction."
+
+"Oh, no, no, Uncle, we will not take a light."
+
+Mr. Menaida and Judith went out together, she with her workbox under
+her arm, he with his stick, and her hand resting on his arm. The night
+was dark, very dark, but the way led for the most part over down, and
+there was just sufficient light in the sky for the road to be
+distinguishable. It would be in the lane, between the walls and where
+overhung by thorns, that the darkness would be most profound. The wind
+was blowing strongly and the sound of the breakers came on it now, for
+the cloud had lifted off land and sea, though still hanging low. Very
+dense overhead it could not be, or no light would have pierced the
+vaporous canopy.
+
+Uncle Zachie and Judith walked on talking together, and she felt
+cheered by his presence, when all at once she stopped, pressed his
+arm, and said:
+
+"Oh, do look, uncle! What is that light?"
+
+In the direction of the cliffs a light was distinctly visible, now
+rising, now falling, observing an unevenly undulating motion.
+
+"Oh, uncle? It is too dreadful. Some foolish person is on the downs
+going home with a lantern, and it may lead to a dreadful error, and a
+wreck."
+
+"I hope to heaven it is only what you say."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"That it is not done wilfully."
+
+"Wilfully!"
+
+"Yes, with the purpose to mislead. Look. The movement of the light is
+exactly that of a ship on a rolling sea."
+
+"Uncle, let us go there at once and stop it."
+
+"I don't know, my dear; if it be done by some unprincipled ruffian he
+would not be stopped by us."
+
+"It must be stopped. And, oh, think! you told me that your Oliver is
+coming home. Think of him."
+
+"We will go."
+
+Mr. Menaida was drawn along by Judith in her eagerness. They left the
+road to Pentyre, and struck out over the downs, keeping their eyes on
+the light. The distance was deceptive. It seemed to have been much
+nearer than they found it actually to be.
+
+"Look! it is coming back!" exclaimed Judith.
+
+"Yes, it is done wilfully. That is to give the appearance of a vessel
+tacking up Channel. Stay behind, Judith. I will go on."
+
+"No. I will go with you. You would not find me again in the darkness
+if we parted."
+
+"The light is coming this way. Stand still. It will come directly on
+us."
+
+They drew up. Judith clung to Uncle Zachie's side, her heart beating
+with excitement, indignation, and anger.
+
+"The lantern is fastened to an ass's head," said Uncle Zachie; "do you
+see how as the creature moves his head the light is swayed, and that
+with the rise and fall in the land it looks as though the rise and
+fall were on the sea. I have my stick. Stand behind me, Judith."
+
+But a voice was heard that made her gasp and clasp the arm of Uncle
+Zachie the tighter.
+
+Neither spoke.
+
+The light approached. They could distinguish the lantern, though they
+could not see what bore it; only--next moment something caught the
+light--the ear of a donkey thrust forward.
+
+Again a voice, that of some one urging on the ass.
+
+Judith let go Menaida's arm, sprang forward with a cry: "Jamie! Jamie!
+what are you doing!"
+
+In a moment she had wrenched the lantern from the head of the ass, and
+the creature, startled, dashed away and disappeared in the darkness.
+Judith put the light under her cloak.
+
+"Oh, Jamie! Jamie! Why have you done this! Who ever set you to this
+wicked task?"
+
+"I am Jack o' Lantern," answered the boy. "Ju! now my Neddy is gone."
+
+"Jamie, who sent you out to do this? Answer me."
+
+"Captain Coppinger!"
+
+Judith walked on in silence. Neither she nor Uncle Zachie spoke, only
+Jamie whimpered and muttered.
+
+Suddenly they were surrounded, and a harsh voice exclaimed:
+
+"In the king's name. We have you now--showing false lights."
+
+Judith hastily slung the lantern from beneath her cloak, and saw that
+there were several men about her, and that the speaker was Mr.
+Scantlebray.
+
+The latter was surprised when he recognized her.
+
+"What!" he said, "I did not expect this--pretty quickly into your
+apprenticeship. What brings you here! And you, too, Menaida, old man?"
+
+"Nothing simpler," answered Uncle Zachie. "I am accompanying Mrs.
+Coppinger back to the Glaze."
+
+"What, married in the morning and roving the downs at night?"
+
+"I have been to Polzeath after my workbox--here it is," said Judith.
+
+"Oh, you are out of your road to Pentyre--I suppose you know that,"
+sneered Scantlebray.
+
+"Naturally," replied Mr. Menaida. "It is dark enough for any one to
+stray. Why! you don't suspect me, do you, of showing false lights and
+endeavoring to wreck vessels! That would be too good a joke--and the
+offence, as I told you--capital."
+
+Scantlebray uttered an oath and turned to the men and said: "Captain
+Cruel is too deep for us this time. I thought he had sent the boy out
+with the ass--instead he has sent his wife--a wife of a few hours, and
+never told her the mischief she was to do with the lantern--hark!"
+
+From the sea the boom of a gun.
+
+All stood still as if rooted to the spot.
+
+Then again the boom of a gun.
+
+"There is a wreck!" exclaimed Scantlebray. "I thought so--and you,
+Mistress Orphing, you're guilty." He turned to the men. "We can make
+nothing of this affair with the lantern. Let us catch the sea-wolves
+falling on their prey."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+THE SEA-WOLVES.
+
+
+On the Doom Bar.
+
+That very merchantman was wrecked, over which so many Cornish mouths
+had watered, ay, and Devonian mouths also, from the moment she had
+been sighted at St. Ives.
+
+She had been entangled in the fog, not knowing where she was, all her
+bearings lost. The wind had risen, and when the day darkened into
+night the mist had lifted in cruel kindness to show a false glimmer,
+that was at once taken as the light of a ship beating up the Channel.
+The head of the merchantman was put about, a half-reefed topsail
+spread, and she ran on her destruction. With a crash she was on the
+bar. The great bowlers that roll without a break from Labrador rushed
+on behind, beat her, hammered her farther and farther into the sand,
+surged up at each stroke, swept the decks with mingled foam and water
+and spray.
+
+The main-mast went down with a snap. Bent with the sail, at the jerk,
+as the vessel ran aground, it broke and came down--top-mast, rigging,
+and sail, in an enveloping, draggled mass. From that moment the
+captain's voice was no more heard. Had he been struck by the falling
+mast and stunned or beaten overboard? or did he lie on deck enveloped
+and smothered in wet sail, or had he been caught and strangled by the
+cordage? None knew, none inquired. A wild panic seized crew and
+passengers alike. The chief mate had the presence of mind to order the
+discharge of signals of distress--but the order was imperfectly
+carried out. A flash, illuminating for a second the glittering froth
+and heaving sea, then a boom--almost stunned by the roar of the sea,
+and the screams of women and oaths of sailors, and then panic laid
+hold of the gunner also and he deserted his post.
+
+The word had gone round, none knew from whom, that the vessel had
+been lured to her destruction by wreckers, and that in a few minutes
+she would be boarded by these wolves of the sea. The captain, who
+should have kept order, had disappeared, the mate was disregarded,
+there was a general _sauve qui peut_. A few women were on board. At
+the shock they had come on deck, some with children, and the latter
+were wailing and shrieking with terror. The women implored that they
+might be saved. Men passengers ran about asking what was to be done,
+and were beaten aside and cursed by the frantic sailors. A Portuguese
+nun was ill with sea-sickness, and sank on the deck like a log, crying
+to St. Joseph between her paroxysms. One man alone seemed to maintain
+his self-possession, a young man, and he did his utmost to soothe the
+excited women and abate their terrors. He raised the prostrate nun and
+insisted on her laying hold of a rope, lest in the swash of the water
+she should be carried overboard. He entreated the mate to exert his
+authority and bring the sailors to a sense of their duty, to save the
+women instead of escaping in the boat, regardful of themselves only.
+
+Suddenly a steady star, red in color, glared out of the darkness, and
+between it and the wreck heaved and tossed a welter of waves and foam.
+
+"There is land," shouted the mate.
+
+"And that shines just where that light was that led us here," retorted
+a sailor.
+
+The vessel heeled to one side, and shipped water fore and aft, over
+either rail, with a hiss and heave. She plunged, staggered, and sank
+deeper into the sand.
+
+A boat had been lowered and three men were in it, and called to the
+women to be sharp and join them. But this was no easy matter, for the
+boat at one moment leaped up on the comb of a black wave, and then
+sank in its yawning trough, now was close to the side of the ship, and
+then separated from it by a rift of water. The frightened women were
+let down by ropes, but in their bewilderment missed their opportunity
+when the boat was under them, and some fell into the water, and had to
+be dragged out, others refused to leave the wreck and risk a leap into
+the little boat. Nothing would induce the sick nun to venture
+overboard. She could not understand English; the young passenger
+addressed her in Portuguese, and finally, losing all patience and
+finding that precious time was wasted in arguing with a poor creature
+incapable of reasoning in her present condition, he ordered a sailor
+to help him, caught her up in his arms, and proceeded to swing himself
+over, that he might carry her into the boat.
+
+But at that moment dark figures occupied the deck, and a man arrested
+him with his hand, while in a loud and authoritative voice he called,
+"No one leaves the vessel without my orders. Number Five, down into
+the boat and secure that. Number Seven, go with him. Now, one by one,
+and before each leaves, give over your purses and valuables that you
+are trying to save. No harm shall be done you, only make no
+resistance."
+
+The ship was in the hands of the wreckers.
+
+The men in the boat would have cast off at once, but the two men sent
+into it, Numbers Five and Seven, prevented them. The presence of the
+wreckers produced order where there had been confusion before. The man
+who had laid his hand on the Portuguese nun, and had given orders, was
+obeyed not only by his own men, but by the crew of the merchant
+vessel, and by the passengers, from whom all thoughts of resistance,
+if they ever rose, vanished at once. All alike, cowed and docile,
+obeyed without a murmur, and began to produce from their pockets
+whatever they had secured and hoped to carry ashore with them.
+
+"Nudding! me nudding!" gasped the nun.
+
+"Let her pass down," ordered the man who acted as captain. "Now the
+next--you!" he turned on the young passenger who had assisted the nun.
+
+"You scoundrel," shouted the young man, "you shall not have a penny of
+mine."
+
+"We shall see," answered the wrecker, and levelled a pistol at his
+head. "What answer do you make to this?"
+
+The young man struck up the pistol, and it was discharged into the
+air. Then he sprang on the captain, struck him in the chest, and
+grappled with him. In a moment a furious contest was engaged in
+between the two on the wet, sloping deck, sloping, for the cargo had
+shifted.
+
+"Hah!" shouted the wrecker, "a Cornishman."
+
+"Yes, a Cornishman," answered the youth.
+
+The wrecker knew whence he came by his method of wrestling.
+
+If there had been light, crew, invaders, and passengers would have
+gathered in a circle and watched the contest; but in the dark, lashed
+by foam, in the roar of the waves and the pipe of the wind, only one
+or two that were near were aware of the conflict. Some of the crew
+were below. They had got at the spirits and were drinking. One drunken
+sailor rushed forth swearing and blaspheming and striking about him.
+He was knocked down by a wrecker, and a wave that heaved over the deck
+lifted him and swept him over the bulwarks.
+
+The wrestle between the two men in the dark taxed the full nerves and
+the skill of each. The young passenger was strong and nimble, but he
+had found his match in the wrecker. The latter was skilful and of
+great muscular power. First one went down on the knee, then the other,
+but each was up again in a moment. A blinding whiff of foam and water
+slashed between them, stinging their eyes, swashing into their mouths,
+forcing them momentarily to relax their hold of each other, but next
+moment they had leaped at each other again. Now they held each other,
+breast to breast, and sought, with their arms bowed like the legs of
+grasshoppers, to strangle or break each other's necks. Then, like a
+clap of thunder, beat a huge billow against the stern, and rolled in a
+liquid heap over the deck, enveloping the wrestlers, and lifted them
+from their feet and cast them, writhing, pounding each other, on the
+deck.
+
+There were screams and gasps from the women as they escaped from the
+water; the nun shrieked to St. Joseph--she had lost her hold and fell
+overboard, but was caught and placed in the boat.
+
+"Now another," was the shout.
+
+"Hand me your money," demanded one of the wreckers. "Madam, have no
+fear. We do not hurt women. I will help you into the boat."
+
+"I have nothing--nothing but this! what shall I do if you take my
+money?"
+
+"I am sorry--you must either remain and drown when the ship breaks up
+or give me the purse."
+
+She gave up the purse and was safely lodged below.
+
+"Who are you?" gasped the captain of the wreckers in a moment of
+relaxation from the desperate struggle.
+
+"An honest man--and you a villain," retorted the young passenger, and
+the contest was recommenced.
+
+"Let go," said the wrecker, "and you shall be allowed to depart--and
+carry your money with you."
+
+"I ask no man's leave to carry what is my own," answered the youth. He
+put his hand to his waist and unbuckled a belt, to this belt was
+attached a pouch well weighted with metal. "There is all I have in the
+world--and with it I will beat your brains out." He whirled the belt
+and money bag round his head and brought it down with a crash upon his
+adversary, who staggered back. The young man struck at him again, but
+in the dark missed him, and with the violence of the blow and weight
+of the purse was carried forward, and on the slippery inclined planks
+fell.
+
+"Now I have you," shouted the other; he flung himself on the prostrate
+man and planted his knee on his back. But, assisted by the inclination
+of the deck, the young man slipped from beneath his antagonist, and
+half-rising caught him and dashed him against the rail.
+
+The wrecker was staggered for a moment, and had the passenger seized
+the occasion he might have finished the conflict; but his purse had
+slipped from his hand, and he groped for the belt till he found one
+end at his feet, and now he twisted the belt round and about his right
+arm and weighted his fist with the pouch.
+
+The captain recovered from the blow, and flung himself on his
+adversary, grasped his arms between the shoulder and elbow, and bore
+him back against the bulwark, drove him against it, and cast himself
+upon him.
+
+"I've spared your life so far. Now I'll spare you no more," said he,
+and the young man felt one of his arms released. He could not tell at
+the time, he never could decide after how he knew it, but he was
+certain that his enemy was groping at his side for his knife. Then the
+hand of the wrecker closed on his throat, and the young man's head was
+driven back over the rail, almost dislocating the neck.
+
+It was then as though the young man saw into the mind of him who had
+cast himself against him, and who was strangling him. He knew that he
+could not find his knife, but he saw nothing, only a fire and blood
+before his eyes that looked up into the black heavens, and he felt
+naught save agony at the nape of his neck, where his spine was turned
+back on the bulwarks.
+
+"Number Seven! any of you! an axe!" roared the wrecker. "By heaven you
+shall be as Wyvill! and float headless on the waves."
+
+"Coppinger!" cried the young man, by a desperate effort liberating his
+hand. He threw his arms round the wrecker. A dash and a boil of froth,
+and both went overboard, fighting as they fell into the surf.
+
+"In the King's name!" shouted a harsh voice.
+
+"Surround--secure them all. Now we have them and they shall not
+escape."
+
+The wreck was boarded by, and in the hands of, the coast-guard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+BRUISED NOT BROKEN.
+
+
+"Come with me, uncle!" said Judith.
+
+"My dear, I will follow you like a dog, everywhere."
+
+"I want to go to the rectory."
+
+"To the rectory! At this time of night!"
+
+"At once."
+
+When the down was left there was no longer necessity for hiding the
+lantern, as they were within lanes, and the light would not be seen at
+sea.
+
+The distance to the parsonage was not great, and the little party were
+soon there, but were somewhat puzzled how to find the door, owing to
+the radical transformations of the approaches effected by the new
+rector.
+
+Mr. Desiderius Mules was not in bed. He was in his study, without his
+collar and necktie, smoking, and composing a sermon. It is not only
+_lucus_ which is derived from _non lucendo_. A study in many a house
+is equally misnamed. In that of Mr. Mules's house it had some claim,
+perhaps, to its title, for in it, once a week, Mr. Desiderius
+cudgelled his brains how to impart form to an inchoate mass of notes;
+but it hardly deserved its name as a place where the brain was
+exercised in absorption of information. The present study was the old
+pantry. The old study had been occupied by a man of reading and of
+thought. Perhaps it was not unsuitable that the pantry should become
+Mr. Mules's study, and where the maid had emptied her slop-water after
+cleaning forks and plates should be the place for the making of the
+theological slop-water that was to be poured forth on the Sunday.
+But--what a word has been here used--theological--another _lucus a non
+lucendo_, for there was nothing of theology proper in the stuff
+compounded by Mr. Mules.
+
+We shall best be able to judge by observing him engaged on his sermon
+for Sunday.
+
+In his mouth was a pipe, on the table a jar of bird's-eye; _item_, a
+tumbler of weak brandy and water to moisten his lips with
+occasionally. It was weak. Mr. Mules never took a drop more than was
+good for him.
+
+Before him were arranged in a circle his materials for composition. On
+his extreme left was what he termed his treacle-pot. That was a volume
+of unctuous piety. Then came his dish of flummery. That was a volume
+of ornate discourses by a crack ladies' preacher. Next his spice-box.
+That was a little store of anecdotes, illustrations, and pungent
+sayings. Pearson on the Creed, Bishop Andrews, or any work of solid
+divinity was not to be found either on his table or on his shelves. A
+Commentary was outspread, and a Concordance.
+
+The Reverend Desiderius Mules sipped his brandy and water, took a long
+whiff of his pipe, and then wrote his text. Then he turned to his
+Commentary and extracted from it junks of moralization upon his text
+and on other texts which his Concordance told him had more or less to
+do with his head text. Then he peppered his paper well over with
+quotations, those in six lines preferred to those in three.
+
+"Now," said the manufacturer of the sermon, "I must have a little
+treacle. I suppose those bumpkins will like it, but not much, I hate
+it myself. It is ridiculous. And I can dish up a trifle of flummery in
+here and there conveniently, and--let me see. I'll work up to a story
+near the tail somehow. But what heading shall I give my discourse?
+'Pon my word I don't know what its subject is--we'll call it General
+Piety. That will do admirably. Yes, General Piety. Come in! Who's
+there?"
+
+A servant entered and said that there were Mr. Menaida and the lady
+that was married that morning, at the door, wanting to speak with him.
+Should she show them into the study?
+
+Mr. Mules looked at his brandy and water, then at his array of
+material for composition, and then at his neckerchief on the floor,
+and said: "No, into the drawing-room." The maid was to light the
+candles. He would put on his collar and be with them shortly.
+
+So the sermon had to be laid aside.
+
+Presently Mr. Desiderius Mules entered his drawing-room, where Judith,
+Uncle Zachie, and Jamie were awaiting him.
+
+"A late visit, but always welcome," said the rector. "Sorry I kept
+you waiting, but I was _en deshabille_. What can I do for you now,
+eh?"
+
+Judith was composed, she had formed her resolution.
+
+She said, "You married me this morning when I was unconscious. I
+answered but one of your questions. Will you get your prayer-book and
+I will make my responses to all those questions you put to me when I
+was in a dead faint."
+
+"Oh, not necessary. Sign the register and it is all right. Silence
+gives consent, you know."
+
+"I wish it otherwise, particularly, and then you can judge for
+yourself whether silence gives consent."
+
+Mr. Desiderius Mules ran back into his study, pulled a whiff at his
+pipe to prevent the fire from going out, moistened his untempered clay
+with brandy and water, and came back again with a Book of Common
+Prayer.
+
+"Here we are," said he. "'Wilt thou have this man,' and so on--you
+answered to that, I believe. Then comes 'I, Judith, take thee, Curll,
+to my wedded husband'--you were indistinct over that, I believe."
+
+"I remember nothing about it. Now I will say distinctly my meaning. I
+will _not_ take Curll Coppinger to my wedded husband, and thereto I
+will never give my troth--so help me, God."
+
+"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed the rector. "You put me in a queer
+position. I married you, and you can't undo what is done. You have the
+ring on your finger."
+
+"No, here it is. I return it."
+
+"I refuse to take it. I have nothing whatever to do with the ring.
+Captain Coppinger put it on your hand."
+
+"When I was unconscious."
+
+"But am I to be choused out of my fee--as out of other things!"
+
+"You shall have your fee. Do not concern yourself about that. I refuse
+to consider myself married. I refuse to sign the register, no man
+shall force me to it, and if it comes to law, here are witnesses, you
+yourself are a witness, that I was unconscious when you married me."
+
+"I shall get into trouble! This is a very unpleasant state of
+affairs."
+
+"It is more unpleasant for me than for you," said Judith.
+
+"It is a most awkward complication. Never heard of such a case
+before. Don't you think that after a good night's rest and a good
+supper--and let me advise a stiff glass of something warm, taken
+medicinally, you understand--that you will come round to a better
+mind."
+
+"To another mind I shall not come round. I suppose I am half
+married--never by my will shall that half be made into a whole."
+
+"And what do you want me to do?" asked Mr. Mules, thoroughly put out
+of his self-possession by this extraordinary scene.
+
+"Nothing," answered Judith, "save to bear testimony that I utterly and
+entirely refuse to complete the marriage which was half done--by
+answering to those questions with a consent, which I failed to answer
+in church because I fainted, and to wear the ring which was forced on
+me when I was insensible, and to sign the register now I am in full
+possession of my wits. We will detain you no longer."
+
+Judith left along with Jamie and Mr. Menaida, and Mr. Mules returned
+to his sermon. He pulled at his pipe till the almost expired fire was
+rekindled into glow, and he mixed himself a little more brandy and
+water. Then with his pipe in the corner of his mouth he looked at his
+discourse. It did not quite please him, it was undigested.
+
+"Dear me!" said Mr. Desiderius. "My mind is all of a whirl, and I can
+do nothing to this now. It must go as it is--yet stay, I'll change the
+title. General Piety is rather pointless. I'll call it Practical
+Piety."
+
+Judith returned to Pentyre Glaze. She was satisfied with what she had
+done; anger and indignation were in her heart. The man to whom she had
+given her hand had enlisted her poor brother in the wicked work of
+luring unfortunate sailors to their destruction. She could hardly
+conceive of anything more diabolical than this form of wrecking: her
+Jamie was involved in the crime of drawing men to their death. A ship
+had been wrecked, she knew that by the minute guns, and if lives were
+lost from it, the guilt in a measure rested on the head of Jamie. But
+for her intervention he would have been taken in the act of showing
+light to mislead mariners, and would certainly have been brought
+before magistrates and most probably have been imprisoned. The
+thought that her brother, the son of such a father, should have
+escaped this disgrace through an accident only, and that he had been
+subjected to the risk by Coppinger, filled her veins with liquid fire.
+Thenceforth there could be nothing between her and Captain Cruel, save
+antipathy, resentment, and contempt on her part. His passion for her
+must cool or chase itself away. She would never yield to him a hair's
+breadth.
+
+Judith threw herself on her bed, in her clothes. She could not sleep.
+Wrath against Coppinger seethed in her young heart. Concerned she was
+for the wrecked, but concern for them was over-lapped by fiery
+indignation against the wrecker. There was also in her breast
+self-reproach. She had not accepted as final her father's judgment on
+the man. She had allowed Coppinger's admiration of herself to move her
+from a position of uncompromising hostility, and to awake in her
+suspicions that her dear, dear father might have been mistaken, and
+that the man he condemned might not be guilty as he supposed.
+
+As she lay tossing on her bed, turning from side to side, her face now
+flaming, then white, she heard a noise in the house. She sat up on her
+bed and listened. There was now no light in the room, and she would
+not go into that of her aunt to borrow one. Miss Trevisa might be
+asleep, and would be vexed to be disturbed. Moreover resentment
+against her aunt for having forced her into the marriage was strong in
+the girl's heart, and she had no wish to enter into any communications
+with her.
+
+So she sat on her bed, listening.
+
+There was certainly disturbance below. What was the meaning of it?
+
+Presently she heard her aunt's voice down-stairs. She was therefore
+not asleep in her room.
+
+Thereupon Judith descended the stairs to the hall. There she found
+Captain Coppinger being carried to his bedroom by two men, while Miss
+Trevisa held a light. He was streaming with water that made pools on
+the floor.
+
+"What is the matter? Is he hurt? Is he hurt seriously?" she asked, her
+woman's sympathy at once aroused by the sight of suffering.
+
+"He has had a bad fall," replied her aunt. "He went to a wreck that
+has been cast on Doom Bar, to help to save the unfortunate, and save
+what they value equally with their lives--their goods, and he was
+washed overboard. Fell into the sea, and was dashed against that boat.
+Yes--he is injured. No bones broken _this_ time. This time he had to
+do with the sea and with men. But he is badly bruised. Go on," she
+said to those who were conveying Coppinger. "He is in pain, do you not
+see this as you stand here? Lay him on his bed, and remove his
+clothes. He is drenched to the skin. I will brew him a posset."
+
+"May I help you, aunt?"
+
+"I can do it myself."
+
+Judith remained with Miss Trevisa. She said nothing to her till the
+posset was ready. Then she offered to carry it to her husband.
+
+"As you will--here it is," said Aunt Dionysia.
+
+Thereupon Judith took the draught, and went with it to Captain
+Coppinger's room. He was in his bed. No one was with him, but a candle
+burned on the table.
+
+"You have come to me, Judith?" he said with glad surprise.
+
+"Yes--I have brought you the posset. Drink it out to the last drop."
+
+She handed it to him; and he took the hot caudle.
+
+"I need not finish the bowl?" he asked.
+
+"Yes--to the last drop."
+
+He complied, and then suddenly withdrew the vessel from his lips.
+"What is this--at the bottom?--a ring?" He extracted a plain gold ring
+from the bowl.
+
+"What is the meaning of this? It is a wedding-ring."
+
+"Yes--mine."
+
+"It is early to lose it."
+
+"I threw it in."
+
+"You--Judith--why?"
+
+"I return it to you."
+
+He raised himself on one elbow and looked at her fixedly with
+threatening eyes.
+
+"What is the meaning of this?"
+
+"That ring was put on my finger when I was unconscious. Wait till I
+accept it freely."
+
+"But--Judith--the wedding is over."
+
+"Only a half wedding."
+
+"Well--well--it shall soon be a whole one. We will have the register
+signed to-morrow."
+
+Judith shook her head.
+
+"You are acting strangely to-night," said he.
+
+"Answer me," said Judith. "Did you not send out Jamie with a light to
+mislead the sailors, and draw them on to Doom Bar?"
+
+"Jamie, again!" exclaimed Coppinger, impatiently.
+
+"Yes, I have to consider for Jamie. Answer me, did you not send
+him----"
+
+He burst in angrily, "If you will--yes--he took the light to the
+shore. I knew there was a wreck. When a ship is in distress she must
+have a light."
+
+"You are not speaking the truth. Answer me, did you go on board the
+wrecked vessel to save those who were cast away?"
+
+"They would not have been saved without me. They had lost their
+heads--every one."
+
+"Captain Coppinger," said Judith, "I have lost all trust in you. I
+return you the ring which I will never wear. I have been to see the
+rector and told him that I refuse you, and I will never sign the
+register."
+
+"I will force the ring on to your finger," said Coppinger.
+
+"You are a man, stronger than I--but I can defend myself, as you know
+to your cost. Half married we are--and so must remain, and never,
+never shall we be more than that."
+
+Then she left the room, and Coppinger dashed his posset cup to the
+ground, but held the ring and turned it in his fingers, and the light
+flickered on it, a red gold ring like that red gold hair that was
+about his throat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+A CHANGE OF WIND.
+
+
+After many years of separation, father and son were together once
+more. Early in the morning after the wreck in Dover Bar, Oliver
+Menaida appeared at his father's cottage, bruised and wet through, but
+in health and with his purse in his hand.
+
+When he had gone overboard with the wrecker, the tide was falling and
+he had been left on the sands of the Bar, where he had spent a cold
+and miserable night, with only the satisfaction to warm him that his
+life and his money were his. He was not floating, like Wyvill, a
+headless trunk, nor was he without his pouch that contained his gold
+and valuable papers.
+
+Mr. Menaida was roused from sleep very early to admit Oliver. The
+young man had recognized where he was, as soon as sufficient light was
+in the sky, and he had been carried across the estuary of the Camel by
+one of the boats that was engaged in clearing the wreck, under the
+direction of the captain of the coast-guard. But three men had been
+arrested on the wrecked vessel, three of those who had boarded her for
+plunder, all the rest had effected their escape, and it was
+questionable whether these three could be brought to justice, as they
+protested they had come from shore as salvers. They had heard the
+signals of distress and had put off to do what they could for those
+who were in jeopardy. No law forbad men coming to the assistance of
+the wrecked. It could not be proved that they had laid their hands on
+and kept for their own use any of the goods of the passengers or any
+of the cargo of the vessel. It was true that from some of the women
+their purses had been exacted, but the men taken professed their
+innocence of having done this, and the man who had made the
+demand--there was but one--had disappeared. Unhappily he had not been
+secured.
+
+It was a question also whether proceedings could be taken relative to
+the exhibition of lights that had misguided the merchantman. The
+coast-guard had come on Mr. Menaida and Judith on the downs with a
+light, but he was conducting her to her new house, and there could be
+entertained against them no suspicion of having acted with evil
+intent.
+
+"Do you know, father," said Oliver, after he was rested, had slept and
+fed, "I am pretty sure that the scoundrel who attacked me was Captain
+Coppinger. I cannot swear. It is many years now since I heard his
+voice, and when I did hear it, it was but very occasionally. What made
+me suspect at the time that I was struggling with Captain Cruel was
+that he had my head back over the gunwale and called for an axe,
+swearing that he would treat me like Wyvill. That story was new when I
+left home, and folk said that Coppinger had killed the man."
+
+Mr. Menaida fidgeted.
+
+"That was the man who was at the head of the entire gang. He it was
+who issued the orders which the rest obeyed; and he, moreover, was the
+man who required the passengers to deliver up their purses and
+valuables before he allowed them to enter the boat."
+
+"Between ourselves," said Uncle Zachie, rubbing his chin and screwing
+up his mouth, "between you and me and the poker, I have no doubt about
+it, and I could bring his neck into the halter if I chose."
+
+"Then why do you not, father? The ruffian would not have scrupled to
+hack off my head had an axe been handy, or had I waited till he had
+got hold of one."
+
+Mr. Menaida shook his head.
+
+"There are a deal of things that belong to all things," he said. "I
+was on the down with my little pet and idol, Judith, and we had the
+lantern, and it was that lantern that proved fatal to your vessel."
+
+"What, father! We owe our wreck to you?"
+
+"No, and yet it must be suffered to be so supposed, I must allow many
+hard words to be rapped out against me, my want of consideration, my
+scatterbrainedness. I admit that I am not a Solomon, but I should not
+be such an ass, such a criminal, as on a night like the last to walk
+over the downs above the cliffs with a lantern. Nevertheless I cannot
+clear myself."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because of Judith."
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"I was escorting her home, to her husband's----"
+
+"Is she married?"
+
+"'Pon my word, I can't say; half and half----"
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"I will explain, later," said Mr. Menaida. "It's a perplexing
+question, and though I was brought up at the law, upon my word I can't
+say how the law would stand in the matter."
+
+"But how about the false lights?"
+
+"I am coming to that. When the Preventive men came on us, led by
+Scantlebray--and why he was with them, and what concern it was of his,
+I don't know--when the guard found us, it is true Judith had the
+lantern, but it was under her cloak."
+
+"We, however, saw the light for some time."
+
+"Yes, but neither she nor I showed it. We had not brought a light with
+us. We knew that it would be wrong to do so, but we came on someone
+driving an ass with a lantern affixed to the head of the brute."
+
+"Then say so."
+
+"I cannot--that person was Judith's brother."
+
+"But he is an idiot."
+
+"He was sent out with the light."
+
+"Well, then, that person who sent him will be punished and the silly
+boy will come off scot free."
+
+"I cannot--he who sent the boy was Judith's husband."
+
+"Judith's husband! Who is that?"
+
+"Captain Coppinger."
+
+"Well, what of that? The man is a double-dyed villain. He ought to be
+brought to justice. Consider the crimes of which he has been guilty.
+Consider what he has done this past night. I cannot see, father, that
+merely because you esteem a young person, who may be very estimable,
+we should let a consummate scoundrel go free, solely because he is her
+husband. He has brought a fine ship to wreck, he has produced much
+wretchedness and alarm. Indeed, he has been the occasion of some lives
+being lost, for one or two of the sailors, thinking we were going to
+Davy Jones's locker, got drunk and were carried overboard. Then,
+consider, he robbed some of the unhappy, frightened women as they were
+escaping. Bless me!" Oliver sprang up and paced the room. "It makes
+my blood seethe. The fellow deserves no consideration. Give him up to
+justice; let him be hung or transported."
+
+Mr. Menaida passed his hand through his hair, and lit his pipe.
+
+"'Pon my word," said he, "there's a good deal to be said on your
+side--and yet----"
+
+"There is everything to be said on my side," urged Oliver, with
+vehemence. "The man is engaged on his nefarious traffic. Winter is
+setting in. He will wreck other vessels as well, and if you spare him
+now, then the guilt of causing the destruction of other vessels and
+the loss of more lives will rest in a measure on you."
+
+"And yet," pleaded Menaida, senior, "I don't know--I don't like--you
+see----"
+
+"You are moved by a little sentiment for Miss Judith Trevisa, or--I
+beg her pardon--Mrs. Cruel Coppinger. But it is a mistake, father. If
+you had had this sentimental regard for her, and value for her, you
+should not have suffered her to marry such a scoundrel, past
+redemption."
+
+"I could not help it. I told her that the man was bad--that is to
+say--I believed he was a smuggler, and that he was generally credited
+with being a wrecker as well. But there were other influences--other
+forces at work--I could not help it."
+
+"The sooner we can rid her of this villain the better," persisted
+Oliver. "I cannot share your scruples, father."
+
+Then the door opened and Judith entered.
+
+Oliver stood up. He had reseated himself on the opposite side of the
+fire to his father, after the ebullition of wrath that had made him
+pace the room.
+
+He saw before him a delicate, girlish figure--a child in size and in
+innocence of face, but with a woman's force of character in the brow,
+clear eyes, and set mouth. She was ivory white; her golden hair was
+spread out about her face--blown by the wind, it was a veritable halo,
+such as is worn by an angel of La Fiesole in Cimabue. Her long,
+slender, white throat was bare; she had short sleeves, to the elbows,
+and bare arms. Her stockings were white, under the dark-blue gown.
+Oliver Menaida had spent a good many years in Portugal, and had seen
+flat faces, sallow complexions, and dark hair--women without delicacy
+of bone and grace of figure--and, on his return to England, the first
+woman he saw was Judith--this little, pale, red-gold-headed creature,
+with eyes iridescent and full of a soul that made them sparkle and
+change color with every change of emotion in the heart and of thought
+in the busy brain.
+
+Oliver was a fine man, tall, with a bright and honest face, fair hair,
+and blue eyes. He started back from his seat and looked at this
+child-bride who entered his father's cottage. He knew at once who she
+was, from the descriptions he had received of her from his father in
+letters from home.
+
+He did not understand how she had become the wife of Cruel Coppinger.
+He had not heard the story from his father, still less could he
+comprehend the enigmatical words of his father relative to her
+half-and-half marriage. As now he looked on this little figure, that
+breathed an atmosphere of perfect purity, of untouched innocence, and
+yet not mixed with that weakness which so often characterizes
+innocence--on the contrary blended with a strength and force beyond
+her years--Oliver's heart rose with a bound and smote against his
+ribs. He was overcome with a qualm of infinite pity for this poor,
+little, fragile being, whose life was linked with that of one so
+ruthless as Coppinger. Looking at that anxious face, at those lustrous
+eyes, set in lids that were reddened with weeping, he knew that the
+iron had entered into her soul, that she had suffered and was
+suffering then; nay, more, that the life opening before her would be
+one of almost unrelieved contrariety and sorrow.
+
+At once he understood his father's hesitation when he urged him to
+increase the load of shame and trouble that lay on her. He could not
+withdraw his eyes from Judith. She was to him a vision so wonderful,
+so strange, so thrilling, so full of appeal to his admiration and to
+his chivalry.
+
+"Here, Ju! here is my Oliver, of whom I have told you so much!" said
+Menaida, running up to Judith. "Oliver, boy! she has read your
+letters, and I believe they gave her almost as great pleasure as they
+did me. She was always interested in you. I mean ever since she came
+into my house, and we have talked together about you, and upon my
+word it really seemed as if you were to her as a brother."
+
+A faint smile came on Judith's face; she held out her hand and said:
+
+"Yes, I have come to love your dear father, who has been to me so
+kind, and to Jamie also; he has been full of thought--I mean kindness.
+What has interested him has interested me. I call him uncle, so I will
+call you cousin. May it be so?"
+
+He touched her hand; he did not dare to grasp the frail, slender white
+hand. But as he touched it, there boiled up in his heart a rage
+against Coppinger, that he--this man steeped in iniquity--should have
+obtained possession of a pearl set in ruddy gold--a pearl that he was,
+so thought Oliver, incapable of appreciating.
+
+"How came you here?" asked Judith. "Your father has been expecting you
+some time, but not so soon."
+
+"I am come off the wreck."
+
+She started back and looked fixedly on him.
+
+"What--you were wrecked?--in that ship last night?"
+
+"Yes. After the fog lifted we were quite lost as to where we were, and
+ran aground."
+
+"What led you astray?"
+
+"Our own bewilderment and ignorance as to where we were."
+
+"And you got ashore?"
+
+"Yes. I was put across by the Preventive men. I spent half the night
+on Doom Bar."
+
+"Were any lives lost?"
+
+"Only those lost their lives who threw them away. Some tipsy sailors,
+who got at the spirits, and drank themselves drunk."
+
+"And--did any others--I mean did any wreckers come to your ship?"
+
+"Salvors? Yes; salvors came to save what could be saved. That is
+always so."
+
+Judith drew a long breath of relief; but she could not forget Jamie
+and the ass.
+
+"You were not led astray by false lights?"
+
+"Any lights we might have seen were sure to lead us astray, as we did
+not in the least know where we were."
+
+"Thank you," said Judith. Then she turned to Uncle Zachie.
+
+"I have a favor to ask of you."
+
+"Anything you ask I will do."
+
+"It is to let Jamie live here, he is more likely to be well employed,
+less likely to get in wrong courses, than at the Glaze. Alas! I cannot
+be with him always and everywhere, and I cannot trust him there. Here
+he has his occupation; he can help you with the birds. There he has
+nothing, and the men he meets are not such as I desire that he should
+associate with. Besides, you know, uncle, what occurred last night,
+and why I am anxious to get him away."
+
+"Yes," answered the old man; "I'll do my best. He shall be welcome
+here."
+
+"Moreover, Captain Coppinger dislikes him. He might in a fit of anger
+maltreat him; I cannot say that he _would_, but he makes no
+concealment of his dislike."
+
+"Send Jamie here."
+
+"And then I can come every day and see him, how he is getting on, and
+can encourage him with his work, and give him his lessons as usual."
+
+"It will always be a delight to me to have you here."
+
+"And to me--to come." She might have said, "to be away from Pentyre,"
+but she refrained from saying that. With a faint smile--a smile that
+was but the twinkle of a tear--she held out her hand to say farewell.
+
+Uncle Zachie clasped it, and then, suddenly, she bent and kissed his
+hand.
+
+"You must not do that," said he, hastily.
+
+She looked piteously into his eyes, and said, in a whisper that he
+alone could hear--"I am so lonely."
+
+When she was gone the old man returned to the ingle nook and resumed
+his pipe. He did not speak, but every now and then he put one finger
+furtively to his cheek, wiped off something, and drew very vigorous
+whiffs of tobacco.
+
+Nor was Oliver inclined to speak; he gazed dreamily into the fire,
+with contracted brows, and hands that were clenched.
+
+A quarter of an hour thus passed. Then Oliver looked up at his father,
+and said: "There is worse wrecking than that of ships. Can nothing be
+done for this poor little craft, drifting in fog--aimless!--and going
+on to the rocks?"
+
+Uncle Zachie again wiped his cheek, and in his thoughtlessness wiped
+it with the bowl of his pipe and burnt himself. He shook his head.
+
+"Now tell me what you meant when you said she was but half married,"
+said Oliver.
+
+Then his father related to him the circumstances of Judith's forced
+engagement, and of the incomplete marriage of the day before.
+
+"By my soul!" exclaimed Oliver. "He must--he shall not treat her as he
+did our vessel."
+
+"Oh, Oliver! if I had had my way--I had designed her for you."
+
+"For me!"
+
+Oliver bent his head and looked hard into the fire, where strange
+forms of light were dancing--dancing and disappearing.
+
+Then Mr. Menaida said, between his whiffs: "Surely a change of wind,
+Oliver. A little while ago, and she was not to be considered; justice
+above all, and Judith sacrificed, if need be--now it is Judith above
+all."
+
+"Yes," musingly, "above all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+A FIRST LIE.
+
+
+As a faithful, as a loving wife almost, did Judith attend to Coppinger
+for the day or two before he was himself again. He had been bruised,
+that was all. The waves had driven him against the boat, and he had
+been struck by an oar; but the very fact that he was driven against
+the boat had proved his salvation, for he was drawn on board, and his
+own men carried him swiftly to the bank, and, finding him unable to
+walk, conveyed him home. On reaching home a worse blow than that of
+the oar had struck him, and struck him on the heart, and it was dealt
+him by his wife. She bade him put away from him for ever the
+expectation, the hope, of her becoming his in more than name.
+
+Pain and disappointment made him irritable. He broke out into angry
+complaint, and Judith had much to endure. She did not answer him. She
+had told him her purpose, and she would neither be bullied nor cajoled
+to alter it.
+
+Judith had much time to herself; she wandered through the rooms of
+Pentyre during the day without encountering anyone, and then strolled
+on the cliffs; wherever she went she carried her trouble with her,
+gnawing at her heart. There was no deliverance for her, and she did
+not turn her mind in that direction. She would remain what she
+was--Coppinger's half-wife, a wife without a wedding-ring, united to
+him by a most dubiously legal ceremony. She bore his name, she was
+content to do that; she must bear with his love turned to fury by
+disappointment. She would do that till it died away before her firm
+and unchangeable opposition.
+
+"What will be said," growled Coppinger, "when it is seen that you wear
+no ring?"
+
+"I will wear my mother's, and turn the stone within," answered Judith,
+"then it will be like our marriage, a semblance, nothing more."
+
+She did appear next day with a ring. When the hand was closed, it
+looked like a plain gold wedding hoop. When she opened and turned her
+hand, it was apparent that within was a small brilliant. A modest
+ring, a very inexpensive one, that her father had given to her mother
+as a guard. Modest and inexpensive because his purse could afford no
+better; not because he would not have given her the best diamonds
+available, had he possessed the means to purchase them.
+
+This ring had been removed from the dead finger of her mother, and Mr.
+Peter Trevisa had preserved it as a present for the daughter.
+
+Almost every day Judith went to Polzeath to give lessons to Jamie, and
+to see how the boy was going on. Jamie was happy with Mr. Menaida, he
+liked a little desultory work, and Oliver was kind to him, took him
+walks, and talked to him of scenes in Portugal.
+
+Very often, indeed, did Judith, when she arrived, find Oliver at his
+father's. He would sometimes sit through the lesson, often attend her
+back to the gate of Pentyre. His conduct toward her was deferential,
+tinged with pity. She could see in his eyes, read in his manner of
+address, that he knew her story, and grieved for her, and would do
+anything he could to release her from her place of torment, if he knew
+how. But he never spoke to her of Coppinger, never of her marriage,
+and the peculiar features that attended it. She often ventured on the
+topic of the wreck, and he saw that she was probing him to discover
+the truth concerning it, but he on no occasion allowed himself to say
+anything that could give her reason to believe her husband was the
+cause of the ship being lost, nor did he tell her of his own desperate
+conflict with the wrecker captain on board the vessel.
+
+He was a pleasant companion, cheerful and entertaining. Having been
+abroad, though not having travelled widely, he could tell much about
+Portugal, and something about Spain. Judith's eager mind was greedy
+after information, and it diverted her thoughts from painful topics to
+hear and talk about orange and lemon groves, the vineyards, the
+flower-gardens, the manners and customs of the people of Portugal, to
+see sketches of interesting places, and of the costumes of the
+peasantry. What drew her to Oliver specially was, however, his
+consideration for Jamie, to whom he was always kind, and whom he was
+disposed to amuse.
+
+The wreck of the merchantman on Doom Bar had caused a great commotion
+among the inhabitants of Cornwall. All the gentry, clergy, and the
+farmers and yeomen not immediately on the coast, felt that wrecking
+was not only a monstrous act of inhumanity, but was a scandal to the
+county, and ought to be peremptorily suppressed, and those guilty of
+it brought to justice. It was currently reported that the merchantman
+from Oporto was wilfully wrecked, and that an attempt had been made to
+rob and plunder the passengers and the vessel. But the evidence in
+support of this view was of little force. The only persons who had
+been found with a light on the cliffs were Mr. Menaida, whom every one
+respected for his integrity, and Judith, the daughter of the late
+rector of St. Enodoc, the most strenuous and uncompromising denouncer
+of wrecking. No one, however malicious, could believe either to be
+guilty of more than imprudence.
+
+The evidence as to the attempt of wreckers to invade the ship, and
+plunder it and the passengers also broke down. One lady alone could
+swear that her purse had been forcibly taken from her. The Portuguese
+men could hardly understand English, and though she asserted that she
+had been asked for money, she could not say that anything had been
+taken from her. It was quite possible that she had misunderstood an
+order given her to descend into the boat.
+
+The night had been dark, the lady who had been robbed could not swear
+to the identity of the man who had taken her purse, she could not even
+say that it was one of those who had come to the vessel, and was not
+one of the crew. The crew had behaved notoriously badly, some had been
+drunk, and it was possible that one of these fellows, flushed with
+spirits, had demanded and taken her money.
+
+There were two or three St. Enodoc men arrested because found on the
+ship at the time, but they persisted in the declaration that, hearing
+signals of distress, they had kindled a light and set it in the tower
+window of the church as a guide to the shipwrecked, and had gone to
+the vessel aground on Doom Bar, with the intention of offering every
+assistance in their power to the castaways. They asserted that they
+had found the deck in confusion. The seamen drunk and lost to
+discipline, the passengers helpless and frightened, and that it was
+only owing to them that some sort of order was brought about, or
+attempted. The arrival of the coast-guard interfered with their
+efforts to be useful.
+
+The magistrates were constrained to dismiss the case, although
+possessed with the moral conviction that the matter was not as the
+accused represented. The only person who could have given evidence
+that might have consigned them to prison was Oliver, and he was not
+called upon to give witness.
+
+But, although the case had broken down completely, an uneasy and angry
+feeling prevailed. People were not convinced that the wreck was
+accidental, and they believed that but for the arrival of the guard,
+the passengers would have been robbed and the ship looted. It was true
+enough that a light had been exhibited from St. Enodoc tower, but that
+served as a guide to those who rushed upon the wreck, and was every
+whit as much to their advantage as to that of the shipwrecked men.
+For, suppose that the crew and passengers had got off in their boats,
+they would have made, naturally, for the light, and who could say but
+that a gang of ruffians was not waiting on the shore to plunder them
+as they landed.
+
+The general feeling in the county was one of vexation that more prompt
+action had not been taken, or that the action taken had not been more
+successful. No man showed this feeling more fully than Mr.
+Scantlebray, who hunted with the coast-guard for his own ends, and who
+had felt sanguine that in this case Coppinger would be caught.
+
+That Coppinger was at the bottom of the attempt, which had been partly
+successful, few doubted, and yet there was not a shadow of proof
+against him. But that, according to common opinion, only showed how
+deep was his craft.
+
+The state of Judith's mind was also one of unrest. She had a
+conviction seated in her heart that all was not right, and yet she had
+no sound cause for charging her husband with being a deliberate
+wrecker. Jamie had gone out with his ass and the lantern, that was
+true, but was Jamie's account of the affair to be relied on? When
+questioned he became confused. He never could be trusted to recall,
+twenty-four hours after an event, the particulars exactly as they
+occurred. Any suggestive queries drew him aside, and without an intent
+to deceive he would tell what was a lie, simply because he could not
+distinguish between realities and fleeting impressions. She knew that
+if she asked him whether Coppinger had fastened the lantern to the
+head of his donkey, and had bidden him drive the creature slowly up
+and down the inequalities of the surface of the cliffs, he would
+assent, and say it was so; but, then, if she were to say to him, "Now,
+Jamie, did not Captain Coppinger tell you on no account to show the
+light till you reached the shore at St. Enodoc, and then to fix it
+steadily," that his face would for a moment assume a vacant, then a
+distressed expression, and he would finally say that he believed it
+really was so. No reliance was to be placed on anything he said,
+except at the moment, and not always then. He was liable to
+misunderstand directions, and by a stupid perversity to act exactly
+contrary to the instructions given him.
+
+Judith heard nothing of the surmises that floated in the neighborhood,
+but she knew enough to be uneasy. She had been somewhat reassured by
+Oliver Menaida; she could see no reason why he should withhold the
+truth from her. Was it, then, possible after all that Captain
+Coppinger had gone to the rescue of the wrecked people, that he had
+sent the light not to mislead, but to direct them aright?
+
+It was Judith's fate--so it seemed--to be never certain whether to
+think the worst of Coppinger, or to hold that he had been misjudged by
+her. He had been badly hurt in his attempt to rescue the crew and
+passengers--according to Aunt Dionysia's account. If she were to
+believe this story, then he was deserving of respect.
+
+Judith began to recover some of her cheerfulness, some of her
+freshness of looks. This was due to the abatement of her fears.
+Coppinger had angrily, sullenly, accepted the relation which she had
+assured him must subsist between them, and which could never be
+altered.
+
+Aunt Dionysia was peevish and morose indeed. She had been disappointed
+in her hope of getting into Othello Cottage before Christmas; but she
+had apparently received a caution from Coppinger not to exhibit
+ill-will toward his wife by word or token, and she restrained
+herself, though with manifest effort. That sufficed Judith. She no
+longer looked for, cared for love from her aunt. It satisfied her if
+Miss Trevisa left her unmolested.
+
+Moreover, Judith enjoyed the walk to Polzeath every day, and, somehow,
+the lessons to Jamie gave her an interest that she had never found in
+them before. Oliver was so helpful. When Jamie was stubborn, he
+persuaded him with a joke or a promise to laugh and put aside his
+ill-humor, and attack the task once more. The little gossiping talk
+after the lesson with Oliver, or with Oliver and his father, was a
+delight to her. She looked forward to it, from day to day, naturally,
+reasonably, for at the Glaze she had no one with whom to converse, no
+one with the same general interests as herself, the same knowledge of
+books, and pleasure in the acquisition of information.
+
+On mountain sides there are floral zones. The rhododendron and the
+gentian luxuriate at a certain level, above is the zone of the blue
+hippatica, the soldanella, and white crocus; below is the belt of
+mealy primula and lilac clematis. So is it in the world of minds--they
+have their levels, and can only live on those levels. Transplant them
+to a higher or to a lower zone and they suffer, and die.
+
+Judith found no one at Pentyre with whom she could associate with
+pleasure. It was only when she was at Polzeath with Uncle Zachie and
+Oliver that she could talk freely and feel in her element.
+
+One day Oliver said to her, "Judith"--for, on the understanding that
+they were cousins, they called each other by their Christian
+names--"Judith! are you going to the ball at Wadebridge after
+Christmas?"
+
+"Ball, Oliver, what ball?"
+
+"That which Mr. Mules is giving for the restoration of his church."
+
+"I do not know. I--yes, I have heard of it; but I had clean forgotten
+all about it. I had rather not."
+
+"But you must, and promise me three dances, at least."
+
+"I do not know what to say. Captain Coppinger"--she never spoke of her
+husband by his Christian name, never thought of him as other than
+Captain Coppinger. Did she think of Oliver as Mr. Menaida, junior?
+"Captain Coppinger has not said anything to me about it of late. I do
+not wish to go. My dear father's death----"
+
+"But the dance is after Christmas. And, you know, it is for a sacred
+purpose. Think, every whirl you take puts a new stone on the
+foundations, and every setting to your partner in quadrille adds a
+pane of glass to the battered windows."
+
+"I do not know," again said Judith, and became grave. Her heart
+fluttered. She would like to be at the ball--and dance three dances
+with Oliver--but would Captain Coppinger suffer her? Would he expect
+to dance with her all the evening? If that were so, she would not like
+to go. "I really do not know," again she said, clasped her hands on
+her knees, and sighed.
+
+"Why that sigh, Judith?"
+
+She looked up, dropped her eyes in confusion, and said faintly, "I do
+not know," and that was her first lie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+THE DIAMOND BUTTERFLY.
+
+
+Poor little fool! Shrewd in maintaining her conflict with Cruel
+Coppinger--always on the defensive, ever on guard, she was sliding
+unconsciously, without the smallest suspicion of danger, into a state
+that must eventually make her position more desperate and intolerable.
+In her inexperience she had never supposed that her own heart could be
+a traitor within the city walls. She took pleasure in the society of
+Oliver, and thought no wrong in so doing. She liked him, and would
+have reproached herself had she not done so.
+
+Her relations with Coppinger remained strained. He was a good deal
+from home; indeed, he went on a cruise in his vessel, the Black
+Prince, and was absent for a month. He hoped that in his absence she
+might come to a better mind. They met, when he was at home, at meals;
+at other times not at all. He went his way, she went hers. Whether the
+agitation of men's minds relative to the loss of the merchantman, and
+the rumors concerning the manner of its loss, had made Captain Cruel
+think it were well for him to absent himself for a while, till they
+had blown away, or whether he thought that his business required his
+attention elsewhere, or that by being away from home his wife might be
+the readier to welcome him, and come out of her vantage castle, and
+lay down her arms, cannot be said for certain; probably all these
+motives combined to induce him to leave Pentyre for five or six weeks.
+
+While he was away Judith was lighter in heart. He returned shortly
+before Christmas, and was glad to see her more like her old self, with
+cheeks rounder, less livid, eyes less sunken, less like those of a
+hunted beast, and with a step that had resumed its elasticity. But he
+did not find her more disposed to receive him with affection as a
+husband. He thought that probably some change in the monotony of life
+at Pentyre might be of advantage, and he somewhat eagerly entered into
+the scheme for the ball at Wadebridge. She had been kept to books and
+to the society of her father too much, in days gone by, and had become
+whimsical and prudish. She must learn some of the enjoyments of life,
+and then she would cling to the man who opened to her a new sphere of
+happiness.
+
+"Judith," said he, "we will certainly go to this ball. It will be a
+pleasant one. As it is for a charitable purpose, all the neighborhood
+will be there. Squire Humphrey Prideaux of Prideaux Place, the
+Matthews of Roscarrock, the Molesworths of Pencarrow, and every one
+worth knowing in the country round for twelve miles. But you will be
+the queen of the ball."
+
+Judith at first thought of appearing at the dance in her simplest
+evening dress; she was shy and did not desire to attract attention.
+Her own position was anomalous, because that of Coppinger was
+anomalous. He passed as a gentleman in a part of the country not very
+exacting that the highest culture should prevail in the upper region
+of society. He had means, and he owned a small estate. But no one knew
+whence he came, or what was the real source whence he derived his
+income. Suspicion attached to him as engaged in both smuggling and
+wrecking, neither of which were regarded as professions consonant with
+gentility. The result of this uncertainty relative to Coppinger was
+that he was not received into the best society. The gentlemen knew him
+and greeted him in the hunting-field, and would dine with him at his
+house. The ladies, of course, had never been invited, because he was
+an unmarried man. The gentlemen probably had dealings with him about
+which they said nothing to their wives. It is certain that the Bodmin
+wine-merchant grumbled that the great houses of the north of Cornwall
+did not patronize him as they ought, and that no wine-merchant was
+ever able to pick up a subsistence at Wadebridge. Yet the country
+gentry were by no means given to temperance, and their cellars were
+being continually refilled.
+
+It was not their interest to be on bad terms with Coppinger, one must
+conjecture, for they went somewhat out of their way to be civil to
+him.
+
+Coppinger knew this, and thought that now he was married an
+opportunity had come in this charity ball for the introduction of
+Judith to society, and that to the best society, and he trusted to her
+merits and beauty, and to his own influence with the gentlemen, to
+obtain for her admission to the houses of the neighborhood. As the
+daughter of the Rev. Peter Trevisa, who had been universally
+respected, not only as a gentleman and a scholar, but also as a
+representative of an ancient Cornish family of untold antiquity, she
+had a perfect right to be received into the highest society of
+Cornwall, but her father had been a reserved and poor man. He did not
+himself care for associating with fox-hunting and sporting squires,
+nor would he accept invitations when he was unable to return them.
+Consequently Judith had gone about very little when at St. Enodoc
+rectory. Moreover, she had been but a child, and was known only by
+name to those who lived in the neighborhood. She was personally
+acquainted with none of the county people.
+
+Captain Cruel had small doubt but that, the ice once broken, Judith
+would make friends, and would be warmly received. The neighborhood was
+scantily peppered over with county family-seats, and the families
+found the winters tedious, and were glad of any accession to their
+acquaintance, and of another house opened to them for entertainment.
+
+If Judith were received well, and found distraction from her morbid
+and fantastic thoughts, then she would be grateful to him--so thought
+Coppinger--grateful for having brought her into a more cheerful and
+bright condition of life than that in which she had been reared.
+Following thereon, her aversion for him, or shyness toward him, would
+give way.
+
+And Judith--what were her thoughts? Her mind was a little fluttered,
+she had to consider what to wear. At first she would go simply clad,
+then her aunt insisted that, as a bride, she must appear in suitable
+garb, that in which she had been married, not that with the two
+sleeves for one side, which had been laid by. Then the question of the
+jewellery arose. Judith did not wish to wear it, but yielded to her
+aunt's advice. Miss Trevisa represented to her that, having the
+diamonds, she ought to wear them, and that not to wear them would hurt
+and offend Captain Coppinger, who had given them to her. This she was
+reluctant to do. However, she consented to oblige and humor him in
+such a small matter.
+
+The night arrived, and Judith was dressed for the ball. Never before
+had Coppinger seen her in evening costume, and his face beamed with
+pride as he looked on her in her white silk dress, with ornaments of
+white satiny bugles in sprigs edging throat and sleeves, and forming a
+rich belt about the waist. She wore the diamond butterfly in her
+bosom, and the two earrings to match. A little color was in her
+delicately pure cheeks, brought there by excitement. She had never
+been at a ball before, and with an innocent, childish simplicity she
+wondered what Oliver Menaida would think of her in her ball-dress.
+
+Judith and Coppinger arrived somewhat late, and most of those who had
+taken tickets were already there. Sir William and Lady Molesworth were
+there, and the half-brother of Sir William, John Molesworth, rector of
+St. Breock, and his wife, the daughter of Sir John S. Aubyn. With the
+baronet and his lady had come a friend, staying with them at
+Pencarrow, and Lady Knighton, wife of an Indian judge. The Matthews
+were there; the Tremaynes came all the way from Heligan, as owning
+property in St. Enodoc, and so, in duty bound to support the charity;
+the Prideauxs were there from Place; and many, if not all, of the
+gentry of various degrees who resided within twelve to fifteen miles
+of Wadebridge were also there.
+
+The room was not one of any interest, it was long, had a good floor,
+which is the main thing considered by dancers, a gallery at one end
+for the instrumentalists, and a draught which circulated round the
+walls, and cut the throats of the old ladies who acted as wall-fruit.
+There was, however, a room to which they could adjourn to play cards.
+And many of the dowagers and old maids had brought with them little
+silver linked purses in which was as much money as they had made up
+their minds to lose that evening.
+
+The dowager Lady Molesworth in a red turban was talking to Lady
+Knighton, a lady who had been pretty, but whose complexion had been
+spoiled by Indian suns, and to her Sir William was offering a cup of
+tea.
+
+"You see," said Lady Knighton, "how tremulous my hand is. I have been
+like this for some years--indeed ever since I was in this neighborhood
+before."
+
+"I did not know you had honored us with a visit on a previous
+occasion," said Sir William.
+
+"It was very different from the present, I can assure you," answered
+the lady. "Now it is voluntarily--then it was much the contrary. Now I
+have come among very dear and kind friends, then--I fell among
+thieves."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"It was on my return from India," said Lady Knighton. "Look at my
+hand!" She held forth her arm, and showed how it shook as with palsy.
+"This hand was firm then. I even played several games of spellikins on
+board ship on the voyage home, and, Sir William, I won invariably, so
+steady was my hold of the crook, so evenly did I raise each of the
+little sticks. But ever since then I have had this nervous tremor that
+makes me dread holding anything."
+
+"But how came it about?" asked the baronet.
+
+"I will tell you, but--who is that just entered the room?" she pointed
+with trembling finger.
+
+Judith had come in along with Captain Coppinger, and stood near the
+door, the light of the wax candles twinkling in her bugles, glancing
+in flashes from her radiant hair. She was looking about her, and her
+bosom heaved, she sought Oliver, and he was near at hand. A flush of
+pleasure sprang into her cheeks as she caught his eye, and held out
+her hand.
+
+"I demand my dance!" said he.
+
+"No, not the first, Oliver," she answered.
+
+Coppinger's brows knit.
+
+"Who is this?" he asked.
+
+"Oh! do you not know? Mr. Menaida's son, Mr. Oliver."
+
+The two men's eyes met, their irises contracted.
+
+"I think we have met before," said Oliver.
+
+"That is possible," answered Captain Cruel, contemptuously, looking in
+another direction.
+
+"When we met I knew you without your knowing me," pursued the young
+man, in a voice that shook with anger. He had recognized the tone of
+the voice that had spoken on the wreck.
+
+"Of that I, neither, have any doubt as to its possibility. I do not
+recollect every Jack I encounter."
+
+A moment after an idea struck him, and he turned his head sharply,
+fixed his eyes on young Menaida, and said, "Where did we meet?"
+
+"'Encounter' was your word."
+
+"Very well--encounter!"
+
+"On Doom Bar."
+
+Coppinger's color changed. A sinister flicker came into his sombre
+eyes.
+
+"Then," said he slowly, in low vibrating tones, "we shall meet again."
+
+"Certainly, we shall meet again, and conclude our--I use your
+term--'encounter.'"
+
+Judith did not hear the conversation. She had been pounced upon by Mr.
+Desiderius Mules.
+
+"Now--positively I must walk through a quadrille with you," said the
+rector. "This is all my affair; it all springs from me, I arranged
+everything. I beat up patrons and patronesses. I stirred up the
+neighborhood. It all turns as a wheel about me as the axle. Come
+along, the band is beginning to play. You shall positively walk
+through a quadrille with me." Mr. Mules was not the man to be put on
+one side, not one to accept a refusal; he carried off the bride to the
+head of the room and set her in one square.
+
+"Look at the decorations," said Mr. Mules, "I designed them. I hope
+you will like the supper. I drew up the _menu_. I chose the wines, and
+I know they are good. The candles I got at wholesale price--because
+for a charity. What beautiful diamonds you are wearing. They are not
+paste, I suppose?"
+
+"I believe not."
+
+"Yet good old paste is just as iridescent as real diamonds. Where did
+you get them? Are they family jewels? I have heard that the Trevisas
+were great people at one time. Well, so were the Mules. We are really
+De Moels. We came in with the Conqueror. That is why I have such a
+remarkable Christian name. Desiderius is the French Désiré, and a
+Norman Christian name. Look at the wreaths of laurel and holly. How do
+you like them?"
+
+"The decorations are charming."
+
+"I am so pleased that you have come," pursued Mr. Mules. "It is your
+first appearance in public as Mrs. Captain Coppinger. I have been
+horribly uncomfortable about--you remember what. I have been afraid I
+had put my foot into it, and might get into hot water. But now you
+have come here, it is all right; it shows me that you are coming
+round to a sensible view, and that to-morrow you will be at the
+rectory and sign the register. If inconvenient, I will run up with it
+under my arm to the Glaze. At what time am I likely to catch you both
+in? The witnesses, Miss Trevisa and Mr. Menaida, one can always get
+at. Perhaps you will speak to your aunt and see that she is on the
+spot, and I'll take the old fellow on my way home."
+
+"Mr. Mules, we will not talk of that now."
+
+"Come! you must see, and be introduced to, Lady Molesworth."
+
+In the meanwhile Lady Knighton was telling her story to a party round
+her.
+
+"I was returning with my two children from India; it is now some years
+ago. It is so sad, in the case of Indians, either the parents must
+part from their children, or the mother must take her children to
+England and be parted from her husband. I brought my little ones back
+to be with my husband's sister, who kindly undertook to see to them.
+We encountered a terrible gale as we approached this coast; do you
+recollect the loss of the Andromeda?"
+
+"Perfectly," answered Sir William Molesworth; "were you in that?"
+
+"Yes, to my cost. One of my darlings so suffered from the exposure
+that she died. But, really, I do not think it was the wreck of the
+vessel which was worst. It was not that, not that alone, which brought
+this nervous tremor on me."
+
+"I remember that case," said Sir William. "It was a very bad one, and
+disgraceful to our county. We have recently had an ugly story of a
+wreck on Doom Bar, with suspicion of evil practices; but nothing could
+be proved, nothing brought home to anyone. In the case of the
+Andromeda there was something of the same sort."
+
+"Yes, indeed, there were evil practices. I was robbed."
+
+"You! surely, Lady Knighton, it was not of you that the story was
+told?"
+
+"If you mean the story of the diamonds, it was," answered the Indian
+lady. "We had to leave the wreck, and carry all our portable valuables
+with us. I had a set of jewellery of Indian work, given me by Sir
+James--well, he was only plain Mr. Knighton then. It was rather
+quaint in design: there was a brooch representing a butterfly, and two
+emeralds formed the----"
+
+"Excuse me one moment, Lady Knighton," said Sir William. "Here comes
+the new rector of St. Enodoc, with the bride, to introduce her to my
+wife. I am ashamed to say we have not made her acquaintance before."
+
+"Bride! what--his bride?"
+
+"Oh, no; the bride of a certain Captain Coppinger, who lives near
+here."
+
+"She is pretty, very pretty; but how delicate!"
+
+Suddenly Lady Knighton sprang to her feet, with an exclamation so
+shrill and startling that the dancers ceased, and the conductor of the
+band, thinking an accident had occurred, with his baton stopped the
+music. All attention was drawn to Lady Knighton, who, erect, trembling
+from head to foot, stood pointing with shaking finger to Judith.
+
+"See! see! My jewels, that were torn from me! Look!" She lifted the
+hair, worn low over her cheeks, and displayed one ear; the lobe was
+torn away.
+
+No one stirred in the ball-room; no one spoke. The fiddler stood with
+bow suspended over the strings, the flutist with fingers on all stops.
+Every eye was fixed on Judith. It was still in that room as though a
+ghost had passed through in winding-sheet. In this hush, Lady Knighton
+approached Judith, pointing still with trembling hand.
+
+"I demand, whence comes that brooch? Where--from whom did you get
+those earrings? They are mine; given me in India by my husband. They
+are Indian work, and not to be mistaken. They were plucked from me one
+awful night of wreck by a monster in human form, who came to our
+vessel, as we sought to leave it, and robbed us of our treasures.
+Answer me--who gave you those jewels?"
+
+Judith was speechless. The lights in the room died to feeble stars.
+The floor rolled like a sea under her feet; the ceiling was coming
+down on her.
+
+She heard whispers, murmurs--a humming as of a swarm of bees
+approaching ready to settle on her and sting her. She looked round
+her. Every one had withdrawn from her. Mr. Desiderius Mules had
+released her arm, and stood back. She tried to speak, but could not.
+Should she make the confession which would incriminate her husband?
+
+Then she heard a man's deep voice, heard a step on the floor. In a
+moment an arm was round her, sustaining her, as she tottered.
+
+"I gave her the jewels. I, Curll Coppinger, of Pentyre. If you ask
+where I got them--I will tell you. I bought them of Willy Mann, the
+pedlar. I will give you any further information you require to-morrow.
+Make room; my wife is frightened."
+
+Then, holding her, looking haughtily, threateningly, from side to
+side, Coppinger helped Judith along--the whole length of the
+ball-room--between rows of astonished, open-eyed, mute dancers. Near
+the door was a knot of gentlemen. They sprang apart, and Coppinger
+conveyed Judith through the door, out of the light, down the stairs,
+into the open air.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+A DEAD-LOCK.
+
+
+The incident of the jewellery of Lady Knighton occasioned much talk.
+On the evening of the ball it occupied the whole conversation, as the
+sole topic on which tongues could run and brains work. I say tongues
+run and brains work and not brains work and tongues run, for the
+former is the natural order in chatter. It was a subject that was
+thrashed by a hundred tongues of the dancers. Then it was turned over
+and rethrashed. Then it was winnowed. The chaff of the tale was blown
+into the kitchens and servants' halls, it drifted into tap-rooms,
+where the coachmen and grooms congregated and drank; and there it was
+rethrashed and rewinnowed.
+
+On the day following the ball, the jewels were returned to Lady
+Knighton, with a courteous letter from Captain Coppinger, to say that
+he had obtained them through the well-known Willy Mann, a pedlar who
+did commissions for the neighborhood, who travelled from Exeter along
+the south coast of Devon and Cornwall, and returned along the north
+coast of both counties.
+
+Everyone had made use of this fellow to do commissions, and
+trustworthy he had always proved. That was not a time when there was a
+parcels' post, and few could afford the time and the money to run at
+every requirement to the great cities, where were important shops when
+they required what could not be obtained in small country towns. He
+had been employed to match silks, to choose carpets, to bring
+medicines, to select jewellery, to convey love-letters.
+
+But Willy Mann had, unfortunately, died a month ago, having fallen off
+a wagon and broken his neck.
+
+Consequently it was not possible to follow up any further the traces
+of the diamond butterflies. Willy Mann, as was well known, had been a
+vehicle for conveying sundry valuables from ladies who had lost money
+at cards, and wanted to recoup by parting with bracelets and
+brooches. That he may have received stolen goods and valuables
+obtained from wrecks was also probable.
+
+So, after all the thrashing and winnowing, folks were no wiser than
+before, and no nearer the solution of the mystery. Some thought that
+Coppinger was guilty, others thought not, and others maintained a
+neutral position. Some again thought one thing one day and the
+opposite the next, and some always agreed with the last speaker's
+views. Whereas others again always took a contrary opinion to those
+who discussed the matter with them.
+
+Moreover, the matter went through a course much like a fever. It
+blazed out, was furious, then died away; languor ensued--and it gave
+symptoms of disappearing.
+
+The general mistrust against Coppinger was deepened, certainly, and
+the men who had wine and spirits and tobacco through him, resolved to
+have wine and spirits and tobacco from him, but nothing more. They
+would deal with him as a trader, and not acknowledge him as their
+social fellow. The ladies pitied Judith, they professed their respect
+for her; but as beds are made so must they be lain on, and as is
+cooked so must be eaten. She had married a man whom all mistrusted,
+and must suffer accordingly; one who is associated with an infected
+patient is certain to be shunned as much as the patient. Such is the
+way of the world, and we cannot alter it, as the making of that way
+has not been intrusted to us. On the day following the ball, Judith
+did not appear at Polzeath, nor again on the day after that.
+
+Oliver became restless. The cheerful humor, the merry mood that his
+father had professed were his, had deserted him. He could not endure
+the thought that one so innocent, so child-like as Judith, should have
+her fortunes linked to those of a man of whom he knew the worst. He
+could not, indeed, swear to his identity with the man on the wreck who
+had attempted to rob the passengers, and who had fought with him. He
+had no doubt whatever in his own mind that his adversary and assailant
+had been Coppinger, but he was led to this identification by nothing
+more tangible than the allusion made to Wyvill's death, and a certain
+tone of voice which he believed he recognized. The evidence was
+insufficient to convict him, of that Oliver was well aware. He was
+confident, moreover, that Coppinger was the man who had taken the
+jewels from Lady Knighton; but here again he was wholly unsupported by
+any sound basis of fact on which his conviction could maintain itself.
+
+Toward Coppinger he felt an implacable anger, and a keen desire for
+revenge. He would like to punish him for that assault on the wreck,
+but chiefly for the wrongs done to Judith. She had no champion, no
+protector. His father, as he acknowledged to himself, was a broken
+reed for one to lean on, a man of good intentions, but of a confused
+mind, of weakness of purpose, and lack of energy. The situation of
+Judith was a pitiful one, and if she was to be rescued from it, he
+must rescue her. But when he came to consider the way and means, he
+found himself beset with difficulties. She was married after a
+fashion. It was very questionable whether the marriage was legal, but,
+nevertheless, it was known through the county that a marriage had
+taken place, Judith had gone to Coppinger's house, and had appeared at
+the ball as his wife. If he established before the world that the
+marriage was invalid, what would she do? How would the world regard
+her? Was it possible for him to bring Coppinger to justice?
+
+Oliver went about instituting inquiries. He endeavored to trace to
+their source, the rumors that circulated relative to Coppinger, but
+always without finding anything on which he could lay hold. It was
+made plain to him that Captain Cruel was but the head of a great
+association of men, all involved in illegal practices; men engaged in
+smuggling, and ready to make their profit of a wreck, when a wreck
+fell in their way. They hung together like bees. Touch one, and the
+whole hive swarmed out. They screened one another, were ready to give
+testimony before magistrates that would exculpate whoever of the gang
+was accused. They evaded every attempt of the coast-guard to catch
+them; they laughed at the constables and magistrates. Information was
+passed from one to another with incredible rapidity; they had their
+spies and their agents along the coast. The magistrates and country
+gentry, though strongly reprobating wrecking, and bitterly opposed to
+poaching, were of broad and generous views regarding smuggling, and
+the preventive officer complained that he did not receive that
+support from the squirearchy which he expected and had a right to
+demand.
+
+There were caves along the whole coast, from Land's End to Hartland,
+and there were, unquestionably, stores of smuggled goods in a vast
+number of places, centres whence they were distributed. When a vessel
+engaged in the contraband trade appeared off the coast, and the guard
+were on the alert in one place, she ran a few miles up or down,
+signalled to shore, and landed her cargo before the coast-guard knew
+where she was. They were being constantly deceived by false
+information, and led away in one direction while the contraband goods
+were being conveyed ashore in an opposite quarter.
+
+Oliver learned much concerning this during the ensuing few days. He
+made acquaintance with the officer in command of the nearest station,
+and resolved to keep a close watch on Coppinger, and to do his utmost
+to effect his arrest. When Captain Cruel was got out of the way, then
+something could be done for Judith. An opportunity came in Oliver's
+way of learning tidings of importance, and that when he least expected
+it. As already said, he was wont to go about on the cliffs with Jamie,
+and after Judith ceased to appear at Mr. Menaida's cottage, in his
+unrest he took Jamie much with him, out of consideration for Judith,
+who, as he was well aware, would be content to have her brother with
+him, and kept thereby out of mischief.
+
+On one of these occasions he found the boy lag behind, become uneasy,
+and at last refuse to go farther. He inquired the reason, and Jamie,
+in evident alarm, replied that he dare not--he had been forbidden.
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"He said he would throw me over, as he did my doggie, if I came here
+again."
+
+"Who did?"
+
+"Captain Coppinger."
+
+"But why?"
+
+Jamie was frightened, and looked round.
+
+"I mustn't say," he answered, in a whisper.
+
+"Must not say what, Jamie?"
+
+"I was to let no one know about it."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"I am afraid to say. He would throw me over. I found it out and
+showed it to Ju. I have never been down there since."
+
+"Captain Coppinger found you somewhere, and forbade your ever going to
+that place again?"
+
+"Yes," in a faltering voice.
+
+"And threatened to fling you over the cliffs if you did!"
+
+"Yes," again timidly.
+
+Oliver said quietly, "Now run home and leave me here."
+
+"I daren't go by myself. I did not mean to come here."
+
+"Very well. No one has seen you. Let me see, this wall marks the spot.
+I will go back with you."
+
+Oliver was unusually silent as he walked to Polzeath with Jamie. He
+was unwilling further to press the boy. He would probably confuse him,
+by throwing him into a paroxysm of alarm. He had gained sufficient
+information for his purpose from the few words he let drop. "I have
+never been down there since," Jamie had said. There was, then,
+something that Coppinger desired should not be generally known
+concealed between the point on the cliff where the "new-take" wall
+ended and the beach immediately beneath.
+
+He took Jamie to his father, and got the old man to give him some
+setting up of birds to amuse and occupy him, and then returned to the
+cliff. It did not take him long to discover the entrance to the cave
+beneath, behind the curtain of slate reef, and as he penetrated this
+to the farthest point, he was placed in possession of one of the
+secrets of Coppinger and his band.
+
+He did not tarry there, but returned home another way, musing over
+what he had learned, and considering what advantage he was to take of
+it. A very little thought satisfied him that his wisest course was to
+say nothing about what he had learned, and to await the turns of
+fortune, and the incautiousness of the smugglers.
+
+From this time, moreover, he discontinued his visits to the
+coast-guard station, which was on the farther side of the estuary of
+the Camel, and which could not well be crossed without attracting
+attention. There was no trusting anyone, Oliver felt--the boatman who
+put him across was very possibly in league with the smugglers, and was
+a spy on those who were in communication with the officers of the
+revenue.
+
+Another reason for his cessation of visits was that, on his return to
+his father's house, after having explored the cave, and the track in
+the face of the cliff leading to it, he heard that Jamie had been
+taken away by Coppinger. The Captain had been there during his
+absence, and had told Mr. Menaida that Judith was distressed at being
+separated from her brother, and that, as there were reasons which made
+him desire that she should forego her walks to Polzeath, he, Captain
+Coppinger, deemed it advisable to bring Jamie back to Pentyre.
+
+Oliver asked himself, when he heard this, with some unease, whether
+this was due to his having been observed with the boy on the downs
+near the place from which access to the cave was had. Also, whether
+the boy would be frightened at the appearance of Captain Cruel so soon
+after he had approached the forbidden spot, and, in his fear, reveal
+that he had been there with Oliver and had partially betrayed the
+secret.
+
+There was another question he was also constrained to ask himself, and
+it was one that made the color flash into his cheek. What was the
+particular reason why Captain Coppinger objected to the visits of his
+wife to Polzeath at that time? Was he jealous? He recalled the flare
+in his eyes at the ball, when Judith turned to him, held out her hand,
+and called him by his Christian name.
+
+From this time all communication with Pentyre Glaze was cut off;
+tidings relative to Judith and Jamie were not to be had. Judith was
+not seen, Aunt Dionysia rarely, and from her nothing was to be
+learned. It would hardly comport with discretion for inquiries to be
+made by Oliver of the servants of the Glaze; but his father, moved by
+Oliver and by his own anxiety, did venture to go to the house and ask
+after Judith. He was coldly received by Miss Trevisa, who took the
+opportunity to insult him by asking if he had come to have his bill
+settled--there being a small account in his favor for Jamie. She paid
+him, and sent the old fellow fuming, stamping, even swearing, home,
+and as ignorant of the condition of Judith as when he went. He had not
+seen Judith, nor had he met Captain Coppinger. He had caught a glimpse
+of Jamie in the yard with his donkey, but the moment the boy saw him
+he dived into the stable, and did not emerge from it till Uncle Zachie
+was gone.
+
+Then Mr. Menaida, still urged by his son and by his own feelings,
+incapable of action unless goaded by these double spurs, went to the
+rectory to ask Mr. Mules if he had seen Judith, and whether anything
+had been done about the signatures in the register.
+
+Mr. Desiderius was communicative.
+
+He had been to Pentyre about the matter. He was, as he said, "in a
+stew over it" himself. It was most awkward; he had filled in as much
+as he could of the register, and all that lacked were the
+signatures--he might say all but that of the bride and Mr. Menaida,
+for there had been a scene. Mrs. Coppinger had come down, and, in the
+presence of the Captain and her aunt, he had expostulated with her,
+had pointed out to her the awkward position in which it placed
+himself, the scruple he felt at retaining the fee, when the work was
+only half done; how, that by appearing at the ball, she had shown to
+the whole neighborhood that she was the wife of Captain Coppinger, and
+that, having done this, she might as well append her name to the entry
+in the register. Then Captain Coppinger and Miss Trevisa had made the
+requisite entries, but Judith had again calmly, but resolutely,
+refused.
+
+Mr. Mules admitted there had been a scene. Mr. Coppinger became angry,
+and used somewhat violent words. But nothing that he himself could
+say, no representations made by her aunt, no urgency on the part of
+her husband could move the resolution of Judith, "which was a bit of
+arrant tomfoolery," said Mr. Desiderius, "and I told her so. Even
+that--the knowledge that she went down a peg in my estimation--even
+that did not move her."
+
+"And how was she?" asked Mr. Menaida.
+
+"Obstinate," answered the rector, "obstinate as a--I mean as a donkey,
+that is the position of affairs. We are at a dead-lock."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+TWO LETTERS.
+
+
+Oliver Menaida was summoned to Bristol by the heads of the firm which
+he served, and he was there detained for ten days.
+
+Whilst he was away, Uncle Zachie felt his solitude greatly. Had he had
+even Jamie with him he might have been content, but to be left
+completely alone was a trial to him, especially since he had become
+accustomed to having the young Trevisa in his house. He missed his
+music. Judith's playing had been to him an inexpressibly great
+delight. The old man for many years had gone on strumming and fumbling
+at music by great masters, incapable of executing it, and unwilling to
+hear it performed by incompetent instrumentalists. At length Judith
+had seated herself at his piano, and had brought into life all that
+wondrous world of melody and harmony which he had guessed at, believed
+in, yearned for, but never reached. And now that he was left without
+her to play to him, he felt like one deprived of a necessary of life.
+
+But his unrest did not spring solely from a selfish motive. He was not
+at ease in his mind about her. Why did he not see her anymore? Why was
+she confined to Pentyre! Was she ill? Was she restrained there against
+her will from visiting her old friends? Mr. Menaida was very unhappy
+because of Judith. He knew that she was resolved never to acknowledge
+Coppinger as her real husband; she did not love him, she shrank from
+him. And knowing what he did--the story of the invasion of the wreck,
+the fight with Oliver--he felt that there was no brutality, no crime
+which Coppinger was not capable of committing, and he trembled for the
+happiness of the poor little creature who was in his hands. Weak and
+irresolute though Mr. Menaida was, he was peppery and impulsive when
+irritated, and his temper had been roused by the manner of his
+reception at the Glaze, when he went there to inquire after Judith.
+
+Whilst engaged on his birds, his hand shook, so that he could not
+shape them aright. When he smoked his pipe, he pulled it from between
+his lips every moment to growl out some remark. When he sipped his
+grog, he could not enjoy it. He had a tender heart, and he had become
+warmly attached to Judith. He firmly believed in identification of the
+ruffian with whom Oliver had fought on the deck, and it was horrible
+to think that the poor child was at his mercy; and that she had no one
+to counsel and to help her.
+
+At length he could endure the suspense no longer. One evening, after
+he had drank a good many glasses of rum and water, he jumped up, put
+on his hat, and went off to Pentyre, determined to insist on seeing
+Judith.
+
+As he approached the house he saw that the hall windows were lighted
+up. He knew which was Judith's room, from what she had told him of its
+position. There was a light in that window also. Uncle Zachie, flushed
+with anger against Coppinger, and with the spirits he had drank,
+anxious about Judith, and resenting the way in which he had been
+treated, went boldly up to the front door and knocked. A maid answered
+his knock, and he asked to see Mrs. Coppinger. The woman hesitated,
+and bade him be seated in the porch. She would go and see.
+
+Presently Miss Trevisa came, and shut the door behind her, as she
+emerged into the porch.
+
+"I should like to see Mrs. Coppinger," said the old man.
+
+"I am sorry--you cannot," answered Miss Trevisa.
+
+"But why not?"
+
+"This is not a fit hour at which to call."
+
+"May I see her if I come at any other hour?"
+
+"I cannot say."
+
+"Why may I not see her?"
+
+"She is unwell."
+
+"If she is unwell, then I am very certain she would be glad to see
+Uncle Zachie."
+
+"Of that I am no judge, but you cannot be admitted now."
+
+"Name the day, the hour, when I may."
+
+"That I am not at liberty to do."
+
+"What ails her? Where is Jamie?"
+
+"Jamie is here--in good hands."
+
+"And Judith."
+
+"She is in good hands."
+
+"In good hands!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "I should like to see the
+good, clean hands worn by anyone in this house, except my dear,
+innocent little Judith. I must and will see her. I must know from her
+own lips how she is. I must see that she is happy--or at least not
+maltreated."
+
+"Your words are an insult to me, her aunt, and to Captain Coppinger,
+her husband," said Miss Trevisa, haughtily.
+
+"Let me have a word with Captain Coppinger."
+
+"He is not at home."
+
+"Not at home!--I hear a great deal of noise. There must be a number of
+guests in the hall. Who is entertaining them, you or Judith!"
+
+"That is no concern of yours, Mr. Menaida."
+
+"I do not believe that Captain Coppinger is not at home. I insist on
+seeing him."
+
+"Were you to see him--you would regret it afterwards. He is not a
+person to receive impertinences and pass them over. You have already
+behaved in a most indecent manner, in encouraging my niece to visit
+your house, and sit, and talk, and walk with, and call by his
+Christian name, that young fellow, your son."
+
+"Oliver!" Mr. Menaida was staggered. It had never occurred to his
+fuddled, yet simple mind, that the intimacy that had sprung up between
+the young people was capable of misinterpretation. The sense that he
+had laid himself open to this charge made him very angry, not with
+himself, but with Coppinger and with Miss Trevisa.
+
+"I'll tell you what," said the old man, "if you will not let me in I
+suppose you will not object to my writing a line to Judith?"
+
+"I have received orders to allow of no communication of any kind
+whatsoever between my niece and you or your house."
+
+"You have received orders--from Coppinger?" the old man flamed with
+anger. "Wait a bit! There is no command issued that you are not to
+take a message from me to your master?"
+
+He put his hand into his pocket, pulled out a note-book, and tore out
+of it a page. Then, by the light from the hall window, he scribbled on
+it a few lines in pencil.
+
+    "Sir!--You are a scoundrel. You bully your wife. You rob, and
+    attempt to murder those who are shipwrecked.--Zachary
+    Menaida."
+
+"There," said the old man, "that will draw him, and I shall see him,
+and have it out with him."
+
+He had wafers in his pocket-book. He wetted and sealed the note. Then
+he considered that he had not said enough, so he opened the page
+again, and added: "I shall tell all the world what I know about you."
+Then he fastened the note again, and directed it. But as it suddenly
+occurred to him that Captain Coppinger might refuse to open the
+letter, he added on the outside, "The contents I know by heart, and
+shall proclaim them on the house-tops." He thrust the note into Miss
+Trevisa's hand, and turned his back on the house, and walked home
+snorting and muttering. On reaching Polzeath, however, he had cooled,
+and thought that possibly he had done a very foolish thing, and that
+most certainly he had in no way helped himself to what he desired, to
+see Judith again. Moreover, with a qualm, he became aware that Oliver,
+on his return from Bristol, would in all probability greatly
+disapprove of this fiery outburst of temper. To what would it lead?
+_Could_ he fight Captain Coppinger? If it came to that, he was ready.
+With all his faults Mr. Menaida was no coward.
+
+On entering his house he found Oliver there, just arrived from
+Camelford. He at once told him what he had done. Oliver did not
+reproach him; he merely said, "A declaration of war, father! and a
+declaration before we are quite prepared."
+
+"Well--I suppose so. I could not help myself. I was so incensed."
+
+"The thing we have to consider," said Oliver, "is what Judith wishes,
+and how it is to be carried out. Some communication must be opened
+with her. If she desires to leave the house of that fellow, we must
+get her away. If, however, she elects to remain, our hands are tied:
+we can do nothing."
+
+"It is very unfortunate that Jamie is no longer here; we could have
+sent her a letter through him."
+
+"He has been removed to prevent anything of the sort taking place."
+
+Then Oliver started up. "I will go and reconnoitre, myself."
+
+"No," said the father. "Leave all to me. You must on no account meddle
+in this matter."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because"--the old man coughed. "Do you not understand--you are a
+young man."
+
+Oliver colored, and said no more. He had not great confidence in his
+father's being able to do anything effectual for Judith. The step he
+had recently taken was injudicious and dangerous, and could further
+the end in view in no way.
+
+He said no more to old Mr. Menaida, but he resolved to act himself, in
+spite of the remonstrance made and the objection raised by his father.
+No sooner was the elder man gone to bed, than he sallied forth and
+took the direction of Pentyre. It was a moonlight night. Clouds indeed
+rolled over the sky, and for awhile obscured the moon, but a moment
+after it flared forth again. A little snow had fallen and frosted the
+ground, making everything unburied by the white flakes to seem inky
+black. A cold wind whistled mournfully over the country. Oliver walked
+on, not feeling the cold, so glowing were his thoughts, and came
+within sight of the Glaze. His father had informed him that there were
+guests in the hall; but when he approached the house, he could see no
+lights from the windows. Indeed, the whole house was dark, as though
+everyone in it were asleep, or it were an uninhabited ruin. That most
+of the windows had shutters he was aware, and that these might be shut
+so as to exclude the chance of any ray issuing he also knew. He could
+not therefore conclude that all the household had retired for the
+night.
+
+The moon was near its full. It hung high aloft in an almost cloudless
+sky. The air was comparatively still--still it never is on that coast,
+nor is it ever unthrilled by sound. Now, above the throb of the ocean,
+could be heard the shrill clatter and cry of the gulls. They were not
+asleep; they were about, fishing or quarrelling in the silver light.
+
+Oliver rather wondered at the house being so hushed--wondered that the
+guests were all dismissed. He knew in which wing of the mansion was
+Judith's room, and also which was Judith's window. The pure white
+light shone on the face of the house and glittered in the
+window-panes.
+
+As Oliver looked, thinking and wondering, he saw the casement opened,
+and Judith appeared at it, leaned with her elbow on the sill, and
+rested her face in her hand, looking up at the moon. The light air
+just lifted her fine hair. Oliver noticed how delicately pale and
+fragile she seemed--white as a gull, fragile as porcelain. He would
+not disturb her for a moment or two; he stood watching, with an
+oppression on his heart, and with a film forming over his eyes. Could
+nothing be done for the little creature? She was moped up in her room.
+She was imprisoned in this house, and she was wasting, dying in
+confinement.
+
+And now he stole noiselessly nearer. There was an old cattle-shed
+adjoining the house, that had lost its roof. Coppinger concerned
+himself little about agriculture, and the shed that had once housed
+cows had been suffered to fall to ruin, the slates had been blown off,
+then the rain had wetted and rotted the rafters, and finally the
+decayed rafters had fallen with their remaining load of slates,
+leaving the walls alone standing.
+
+Up one of the sides of this ruinous shed Oliver climbed, and then
+mounted to the gable, whence he could speak to Judith. But she must
+have heard him, and been alarmed, for she hastily closed the casement.
+Oliver, however, did not abandon his purpose. He broke off particles
+of mortar from the gable of the cow-house and threw them cautiously
+against the window. No notice was taken of the first or the second
+particle that clickered against a pane; but at the third a shadow
+appeared at the window, as though Judith had come to the casement to
+look out. Oliver was convinced that he could be seen; as he was on the
+very summit of the gable, and he raised his hands and arms to ensure
+attention.
+
+Suddenly the shadow was withdrawn. Then hastily he drew forth a scrap
+of paper, on which he had written a few words before he left his
+father's house, in the hopes of obtaining a chance of passing it to
+Judith, through Jamie, or by bribing a servant. This he now wrapped
+round a bit of stone and fastened it with a thread. Next moment the
+casement was opened and the shadow reappeared.
+
+"Back!" whispered Oliver, sufficiently loud to be heard, and he
+dexterously threw the stone and the letter through the open window.
+
+Next moment the casement was shut and the curtains were drawn.
+
+He waited for full a quarter of an hour but no answer was returned.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+THE SECOND TIME.
+
+
+No sooner had Oliver thrown the stone with note tied round it into
+Judith's room through the window, than he descended from a position
+which he esteemed too conspicuous should anyone happen to be about in
+the night near the house. He ensconced himself beneath the cow-shed
+wall in the shadow, where concealed, but was ready should the casement
+open to step forth and show himself.
+
+He had not been there many minutes before he heard steps and voices,
+one of which he immediately recognized as that of Cruel Coppinger.
+Oliver had not been sufficiently long in the neighborhood to know the
+men in it by their voices, but looking round the corner of the wall he
+saw two figures against the horizon, one with hands in his pockets,
+and by the general slouch, he thought that he recognized the sexton of
+S. Enodoc.
+
+"The Black Prince will be in before long," said Coppinger. "I mean
+next week or fortnight, and I must have the goods shored here, this
+time. She will stand off Porth-leze, and mind you get information
+conveyed to the captain of the coast-guard that she will run her cargo
+there. Remember that. We must have a clear coast here. The stores are
+empty and must be refilled."
+
+"Yes, your honor."
+
+"You have furnished him with the key to the signals?"
+
+"Yes, Cap'n."
+
+"And from Porth-leze there are to be signals to the Black Prince to
+come on here--but so that they may be read the other way--you
+understand?"
+
+"Yes, Cap'n."
+
+"And what do they give you every time you carry them a bit of
+information?"
+
+"A shilling."
+
+"A munificent government payment! and what did they give you for the
+false code of signals?"
+
+"Half a crown."
+
+"Then here is half a guinea--and a crown for every lie you impose on
+them."
+
+Then Coppinger and the sexton went further. As soon as Oliver thought
+he could escape unobserved he withdrew and returned to Polzeath.
+
+Next day he had a talk with his father.
+
+"I have had opinions, in Bristol," said he, "relative to the position
+of Judith."
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"From lawyers."
+
+"Well--and what did they say?"
+
+"One said one thing and one another. I stated the case of her
+marriage, its incompletion, the unsigned register, and one opinion was
+that nevertheless she was Mrs. Coppinger. But another opinion was
+that, in consequence of the incompleteness of the marriage, it was
+none--she was Miss Trevisa. Father, before I went to the barristers
+and obtained their opinions, I was as wise as I am now, for I knew
+then, what I know now, that she is either Mrs. Coppinger, or else that
+she is Miss Trevisa."
+
+"I could have told you as much."
+
+"It seems to me--but I may be uncharitable," said Oliver, grimly,
+"that the opinion given was this way or that way according as I showed
+myself interested for the legality or against the legality of the
+marriage. Both of those to whom I applied regarded the case as
+interesting and deserving of being thrashed out in a court of law, and
+gave their opinions so as to induce me to embark in a suit. You
+understand what I mean, father? When I seemed urgent that the marriage
+should be pronounced none at all, then the verdict of the consulting
+barrister was that it was no marriage at all, and very good reasons he
+was able to produce to show that. But when I let it be supposed that
+my object was to get this marriage established against certain parties
+keenly interested in disputing it, I got an opinion that it was a good
+and legal marriage, and very good reasons were produced to sustain
+this conclusion."
+
+"I could have told you as much--and this has cost you money?"
+
+"Yes--naturally."
+
+"And left you without any satisfaction?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"No satisfaction is to be got out of law--that is why I took to
+stuffing birds."
+
+"What is that noise at the door?" asked Oliver.
+
+"There is some one trying to come in, and fumbling at the hasp," said
+his father.
+
+Oliver went to the door and opened it--to find Jamie there, trembling,
+white, and apparently about to faint. He could not speak, but he held
+out a note to Oliver.
+
+"What is the matter with you?" asked the young man.
+
+The boy, however, did not answer, but ran to Mr. Menaida, and crouched
+behind him.
+
+"He has been frightened," said the old man. "Leave him alone. He will
+come round presently and I will give him a drop of spirits to rouse
+him up. What letter is that?"
+
+Oliver looked at the little note given him. It had been sealed, but
+torn open afterward. It was addressed to him, and across the address
+was written in bold, coarse letters with a pencil, "Seen and passed.
+C. C." Oliver opened the letter and read as follows:
+
+    "I pray you leave me. Do not trouble yourself about me.
+    Nothing can now be done for me. My great concern is for
+    Jamie. But I entreat you to be very cautious about yourself
+    where you go. You are in danger. Your life is threatened, and
+    you do not know it. I must not explain myself, but I warn
+    you. Go out of the country--that would be best. Go back to
+    Portugal. I shall not be at ease in my mind till I know that
+    you are gone, and gone unhurt. My dear love to Mr.
+    Menaida--Judith."
+
+The hand that had written this letter had shaken, the letters were
+hastily and imperfectly formed. Was this the hand of Judith who had
+taught Jamie caligraphy, had written out his copies as neatly and
+beautifully as copper-plate?
+
+Judith had sent him this answer by her brother, and Jamie had been
+stopped, forced to deliver up the missive, which Coppinger had opened
+and read. Oliver did not for a moment doubt _whence_ the danger sprang
+with which he was menaced. Coppinger had suffered the warning to be
+conveyed to him with contemptuous indifference--it was as though he
+had scored across the letter--"Be forewarned, take what precautions
+you will--you shall not escape me."
+
+The first challenge had come from old Menaida, but Coppinger passed
+over that as undeserving of attention, but he proclaimed his readiness
+to cross swords with the young man. And Oliver could not deny that he
+had given occasion for this. Without counting the cost, without
+considering the risk; nay, further, without weighing the right and
+wrong in the matter, Oliver had allowed himself to slip into terms of
+some familiarity with Judith, harmless enough were she unmarried, but
+hardly calculated to be so regarded by a husband. They had come to
+consider each other as cousins, or they had pretended so to consider
+each other, so as to justify a half-affectionate, half-intimate
+association, and before he was aware of it Oliver had lost his heart.
+He could not and he would not regard Judith as the wife of Coppinger,
+because he knew that she absolutely refused to be so regarded by him,
+by herself, by his father, though by appearing at the ball with
+Coppinger, by living in his house, she allowed the world to so
+consider her. Was she his wife? He could not suppose it when she had
+refused to conclude the marriage ceremony, when there was no
+documentary evidence for the marriage. Let the question be mooted in a
+court of law; what could the witnesses say, but that she had fainted,
+and that all the latter portion of the ceremony had been performed
+over her when unconscious, and that on her recovery of her faculties
+she had resolutely persisted in resistance to the affixing of her
+signature to the register.
+
+With respect to Judith's feelings toward himself Oliver was ignorant.
+She had taken pleasure in his society, because he had made himself
+agreeable to her, and his company was a relief to her after the
+solitude of Pentyre and the association there with persons with whom
+she was wholly out of sympathy.
+
+His quarrel with Coppinger had shifted ground. At first he had
+resolved, should occasion offer, to conclude with him the contest
+begun on the wreck, and to chastise him for his conduct on that night.
+Now, he thought little of that cause of resentment, he desired to
+punish him for having been the occasion of so much misery to Judith.
+He could not now drive from his head the scene of the girl's wan face
+at the window, looking up at the moon.
+
+Oliver would shrink from doing anything dishonorable, but it did not
+seem to him that there could be aught wrong and unbecoming a gentleman
+in endeavoring to snatch this hapless child from the claws of the wild
+beast that had struck it down.
+
+"No, father," said he hastily, as the old fellow was pouring out a
+pretty strong dose of his great specific and about to administer it to
+Jamie, "no father, it is not that the boy wants; and remember how
+strongly Judith objects to his being given spirits."
+
+"Dear, dear!" exclaimed Uncle Zachie, "to be sure she does, and she
+made me promise not to give him any. But this is an exceptional case."
+
+"Let him come to me, I will soothe him. The child is frightened, or
+stay, get him to help you with that kittiwake. Jamie, father can't get
+the bird to look natural; his head does not seem to me to be right.
+Did you ever see a kittiwake turn his neck in that fashion? I wish you
+would put your fingers to the throat, and bend it about, and set the
+wadding where it ought to be. Father and I can't agree about it."
+
+"It is wrong," said Jamie. "Look, this is the way." His mind was
+diverted. Always volatile, always ready to be turned from one thing to
+another, Oliver had succeeded in interesting him, and had made him
+forget for a moment the terrors that had shaken him.
+
+After Jamie had been in the house for half an hour, Oliver advised him
+to return to the Glaze. He would give him no message, verbal or
+written. But the thought of having to return renewed the poor child's
+fears, and Oliver could hardly allay them by promising to accompany
+him part of the way.
+
+Oliver was careful not to speak to him on the subject of his alarm,
+but he gathered from his disjointed talk that Judith had given him the
+note and impressed on him that it was to be delivered as secretly as
+possible; that Coppinger had intercepted him, and suspecting
+something, had threatened and frightened him into divulging the truth.
+Then Captain Cruel had read the letter, scored over it some words in
+pencil, given it back to him, and ordered him to fulfil his
+commission, to deliver the note.
+
+"Look you here, Jamie," was Mr. Menaida's parting injunction to the
+lad as he left the house, "there's no reason for you to be idle when
+at Pentyre. You can make friends with some of the men and get birds
+shot. I don't advise your having a gun, you are not careful enough.
+But if they shoot birds you may amuse your leisure in skinning them,
+and I gave Judith arsenic for you. She keeps it in her workbox, and
+will let you have sufficient for your purpose as you need it. I would
+not give it to you, as it might be dangerous in your hands as a gun.
+It is a deadly poison, and with carelessness you might kill a man. But
+go to Judith when you have a skin ready to dress and she will see that
+you have sufficient for the dressing. There, good-by, and bring me
+some skins shortly."
+
+Oliver accompanied the boy as far as the gate that led into the lane
+between the walls enclosing the fields of the Pentyre estate. Jamie
+pressed him to come farther, but this the young man would not do. He
+bade the poor lad farewell, bid him divert himself as his father had
+advised, with bird stuffing, and remained at the gate watching him
+depart. The boy's face and feebleness touched and stirred the heart of
+Oliver. The face reminded him so strongly of his twin sister, but it
+was the shadow, the pale shadow of Judith only, without the
+intelligence, the character, and the force. And the helplessness of
+the child, his desolation, his condition of nervous alarm roused the
+young man's pity. He was startled by a shot, that struck his gray hat
+simultaneously with the report.
+
+In a moment he sprang over the hedge in the direction whence the smoke
+rose, and came upon Cruel Coppinger with a gun.
+
+"Oh, you!" said the latter, with a sneer, "I thought I was shooting a
+rabbit."
+
+"This is the second time," said Oliver.
+
+"The first," was Coppinger's correction.
+
+"Not so--the second time you have levelled at me. The first was on the
+wreck when I struck up your hand."
+
+Coppinger shrugged his shoulders. "It is immaterial. The third time is
+lucky, folks say."
+
+The two men looked at each other with hostility.
+
+"Your father has insulted me," said Coppinger. "Are you ready to take
+up his cause? I will not fight an old fool."
+
+"I am ready to take up his cause, mine also, and that of----" Oliver
+checked himself.
+
+"And that of whom?" asked Coppinger, white with rage, and in a
+quivering voice.
+
+"The cause of my father and mine own will suffice," said Oliver.
+
+"And when shall we meet?" asked Captain Cruel, leaning on his gun and
+glaring at his young antagonist over it.
+
+"When and where suits me," answered Oliver, coldly.
+
+"And when and where may that be?"
+
+"When and where!--when and where I can come suddenly on you as you
+came on me upon the wreck. With such as you--one does not observe the
+ordinary rules."
+
+"Very well," shouted Coppinger. "When and where suits you, and when
+and where suits me--that is, whenever we meet again--we meet finally."
+
+Then each turned and strode away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+THE WHIP FALLS.
+
+
+For many days Judith had been as a prisoner in the house, in her room.
+Some one had spoken to Coppinger and had roused his suspicions,
+excited his jealousy. He had forbidden her visits to Polzeath; and to
+prevent communication between her and the Menaidas, father and son, he
+had removed Jamie to Pentyre Glaze.
+
+Angry and jealous he was. Time had passed, and still he had not
+advanced a step, rather he had lost ground. Judith's hopes that he was
+not what he had been represented, were dashed. However plausible might
+be his story to account for the jewels, she did not believe it.
+
+Why was Judith not submissive? Coppinger could now only conclude that
+she had formed an attachment for Oliver Menaida--for that young man
+whom she singled out, greeted with a smile, and called by his
+Christian name. He had heard of how she had made daily visits to the
+house of his father, how Oliver had been seen attending her home, and
+his heart foamed with rage and jealousy.
+
+She had no desire to go anywhere, now that she was forbidden to go to
+Polzeath, and when she knew that she was watched. She would not
+descend to the hall and mix with the company often assembled there,
+and though she occasionally went there when Coppinger was alone, took
+her knitting and sat by the fire, and attempted to make conversation
+about ordinary matters, yet his temper, his outbursts of rancor, his
+impatience of every other topic save their relations to each other,
+and his hatred of the Menaidas, made it intolerable for her to be with
+him alone, and she desisted from seeking the hall. This incensed him,
+and he occasionally went up-stairs, sought her out and insisted on her
+coming down. She would obey, but some outbreak would speedily drive
+her from his presence again.
+
+Their relations were more strained than ever. His love for her had
+lost the complexion of love and had assumed that of jealousy. His
+tenderness and gentleness toward her had been fed by hope, and when
+hope died they vanished. Even that reverence for her innocence and the
+respect for her character that he had shown was dissipated by the
+stormy gusts of jealousy.
+
+Miss Trevisa was no more a help and stay to the poor girl than she had
+been previously. She was soured and embittered, for her ambition to be
+out of the house and in Othello Cottage had been frustrated. Coppinger
+would not let her go till he and his wife had come to more friendly
+terms. On her chimney-piece were two bunches of lavender, old lavender
+from the rectory garden of the preceding year. They had become so dry
+that the seeds fell out, and they no longer exhaled scent unless
+pressed.
+
+Judith stood at her chimney-piece pressing her finger on the dropped
+seeds, and picking them up by this means to throw them into the small
+fire that smouldered in the grate. At first she went on listlessly
+picking up a seed and casting it into the fire, actuated by her innate
+love of order, without much thought--rather without any thought--for
+her mind was engaged over the letter of Oliver and his visit the
+previous night outside. But after a while, while thus gathering the
+grains of lavender, she came to associate them with her trouble, and
+as she thought--"Is there any escape for me, any happiness in
+store?"--she picked up a seed and cast it into the fire. Then she
+asked: "Is there any other escape for me than to die--to die and be
+with dear papa again, now not in S. Enodoc Rectory garden, but in the
+garden of Paradise?" And again she picked up and cast away a grain.
+Then, as she touched her fingertip with her tongue and applied it to
+another lavender seed, she said: "Or must this go on--this nightmare
+of wretchedness, of persecution, of weariness to death without dying,
+for years?" And she cast away the seed shudderingly. "Or"--and again,
+now without touching her finger with her tongue, as though the last
+thought had contaminated it--"or will he finally break and subdue me,
+destroy me and Jamie, soul and body?" Shivering at the thought she
+hardly dare to touch a seed, but forced herself to do so, raised one,
+and hastily shook it from her.
+
+Thus she continued ringing the change, never formulating any scheme
+of happiness for herself--certainly, in her white, guileless mind, not
+in any way associating Oliver with happiness, save as one who might by
+some means effect her discharge from this bondage--but he was not
+linked, not woven up with any thought of the future.
+
+The wind clickered at the casement. She had a window toward the sea;
+another, opposite, toward the land. Hers was a transparent chamber,
+and her mind had been transparent. Only now, timidly, doubtfully, not
+knowing herself why, did she draw a blind down over her soul, as
+though there were something there that she would not have all the
+world see, and yet which was in itself innocent. Then a new fear woke
+up in her, lest she should go mad. Day after day, night after night,
+was spent in the same revolution of distressing thought, in the same
+bringing up and reconsidering of old difficulties, questions
+concerning Coppinger, questions concerning Jamie, questions concerning
+her own power of endurance and resistance. Was it possible that this
+could go on without driving her mad?
+
+"One thing I see," murmured she; "all steps are broken away under me
+on the stair, and one thing alone remains for me to cling to--one only
+thing--my understanding. That"--she put her hands to her head--"that
+is all I have left. My name is gone from me. My friends I am separated
+from. My brother may not be with me. My happiness is all gone. My
+health may break down, but to a clear understanding I must hold; if
+that fails me I am lost--lost indeed."
+
+"Lost indeed!" exclaimed Coppinger, entering abruptly. He had caught
+her last words. He came in in white rage, blinded and forgetful in his
+passion, and with his hat on. There was a day when he entered the
+boudoir with his head covered, and Judith, without a word, by the mere
+force of her character shining out of her clear eyes, had made him
+retreat and uncover. It was not so now. She was careless whether he
+wore the hat or not when he entered her room. "So!" said he, in a
+voice that foamed out of his mouth, "letters pass between you!
+Letters--I have read that you sent. I stayed your messenger."
+
+"Well," answered Judith, with such composure as she could muster. She
+had already passed through several stormy scenes with him, and knew
+that her only security lay in self-restraint. "There was naught in it
+that you might not read. What did I say? That my condition was
+fixed--that none could alter it; that is true. That my great care and
+sorrow of heart is for Jamie; that is true. That Oliver Menaida has
+been threatened; that also is true. I have heard you speak words
+against him of no good."
+
+"I will make good my words."
+
+"I wrote, and hoped to save him from a danger, and you from a crime."
+
+Coppinger laughed. "I have sent on the letter. Let him take what
+precautions he will. I will chastise him. No man ever crossed me yet
+but was brought to bite the dust."
+
+"He has not harmed you, Captain Coppinger."
+
+"He! Can I endure that you should call him by his Christian name,
+while I am but Captain Coppinger? That you should seek him out, laugh,
+and talk, and flirt with him--"
+
+"Captain Coppinger!"
+
+"Yes," raged he, "always Captain Coppinger, or Captain Cruel, and he
+is dear Oliver! sweet Oliver!" He well-nigh suffocated in his fury.
+
+Judith drew herself up and folded her arms. She had in one hand a
+sprig of lavender from which she had been shaking the over-ripe
+grains. She turned deadly white.
+
+"Give me up his letter. Yours was an answer!"
+
+"I will give it to you," answered Judith, and she went to her workbox,
+raised the lid, then the little tray containing reels, and from
+beneath it extracted a crumpled scrap of paper. She handed it calmly,
+haughtily to Coppinger, then folded her arms again, one hand still
+holding the bunch of lavender.
+
+The letter was short. Coppinger's hand shook with passion so that he
+could hardly hold it with sufficient steadiness to read it. It ran as
+follows:
+
+"I must know your wishes, dear Judith. Do you intend to remain in that
+den of wreckers and cut-throats? or do you desire that your friends
+should bestir themselves to obtain your release? Tell us, in one word,
+what to do, or rather what are your wishes, and we will do what we
+can."
+
+"Well!" said Coppinger, looking up. "And your answer is to the
+point--you wish to stay."
+
+"I did not answer thus. I said--leave me."
+
+"And never intended that he should leave you," raged Coppinger. He
+came close up to her with his eyes glittering, his nostrils distended
+and snorting and his hands clinched.
+
+Judith loosened her arms, and with her right hand swept a space before
+her with the bunch of lavender. He should not approach her within
+arm's length; the lavender marked the limit beyond which he might not
+draw near.
+
+"Now, hear me!" said Coppinger. "I have been too indulgent. I have
+humored you as a spoilt child. Because you willed this or that, I have
+submitted. But the time for humoring is over. I can endure this
+suspense no longer. Either you are my wife or you are not. I will
+suffer no trifling over this any longer. You have as it were put your
+lips to mine, and then sharply drawn them away--and now offer them to
+another."
+
+"Silence!" exclaimed Judith. "You insult me."
+
+"You insult and outrage me!" said Coppinger, "when you run from your
+home to chatter with and walk with this Oliver, and never deign to
+speak to me. When he is your dear Oliver, and I am only Captain
+Coppinger; when you have smiles for him you have black looks for me.
+Is not that insulting, galling, stinging, maddening?"
+
+Judith was silent. Her throat swelled. There was some truth in what he
+said; but, in the sight of heaven, she was guiltless of ever having
+thought of wrong, of having supposed for a moment that what she had
+allowed herself had not been harmless.
+
+"You are silent," said Coppinger. "Now hearken! With this moment I
+turn over the page of humoring your fancies and yielding to your
+follies. I have never pressed you to sign that register--I have
+trusted to your good sense and good feeling. You cannot go back. Even
+if you desire it, you cannot undo what has been done. Mine you are,
+mine you shall be--mine wholly and always. Do you hear?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And agree?"
+
+"No."
+
+He was silent a moment, with clinched teeth and hands looking at her,
+with eyes that smote her, as though they were bullets.
+
+"Very well," said he. "Your answer is no."
+
+"My answer is no, so help me God."
+
+"Very well," said he, between his teeth. "Then we open a new chapter."
+
+"What chapter is that?"
+
+"It is that of compulsion. That of solicitation is closed."
+
+"You cannot, whilst I have my senses. What!" She saw that he had a
+great riding-whip in his hand. "What--the old story again! You will
+strike me?"
+
+"No--not you. I will lash you into submission--through Jamie."
+
+She uttered a cry, dropped the lavender, that became scattered before
+her, and held up her hands in mute entreaty.
+
+"I owe him chastisement. I have owed it him for many a day--and to-day
+above all--as a go-between."
+
+Judith could not speak. She remained as one frozen--in one attitude,
+in one spot, speechless. She could not stir, she could not utter a
+word of entreaty, as Coppinger left the room.
+
+In another minute a loud and shrill cry reached her ears from the
+court into which one of her windows looked. She knew the cry. It was
+that of her twin brother, and it thrilled through her heart, quivered
+in every nerve of her whole frame.
+
+She could hear what followed; but she could not stir. She was rooted
+by her feet to the floor, but she writhed there. It was as though
+every blow dealt the boy outside fell on her: she bent, she quivered,
+her lips parted, but cry she could not, the sweat rolled off her brow;
+she beat with her hands in the air. Now she thrilled up with uplifted
+arms, on tip-toe, then sank--it was like a flame flickering in a
+socket before it expires: it dances, it curls, it shoots up in a
+tongue, it sinks into a bead of light, it rolls on one side, it sways
+to the other, it leaps from the wick high into the air, and drops
+again. It was so with Judith--every stroke dealt, every scream of the
+tortured boy, every toss of his suffering frame, was repeated in her
+room, by her--in supreme, unspeaking anguish, too intense for sound to
+issue from her contracted throat.
+
+Then all was still, and Judith had sunk to her knees on the scattered
+lavender, extending her arms, clasping her hands, spreading them
+again, again beating her palms together, in a vague, unconscious way,
+as if in breathing she could not gain breath enough without this
+expansion and stretching forth of her arms.
+
+But, all at once, before her stood Coppinger, the whip in his hands.
+
+"Well! what now is your answer?"
+
+She breathed fast for some moments, laboring for expression. Then she
+reared herself up and tried to speak, but could not. Before her,
+threshed out on the floor, were the lavender seeds. They lay thick in
+a film over the boards in one place. She put her finger among them and
+drew No.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+GONE FROM ITS PLACE.
+
+
+There are persons, they are not many, on whom Luck smiles and showers
+gold. Not a steady daily downpour of money but, whenever a little
+cloud darkens their sky, that same little cloud, which to others would
+be mere gloom, opens and discharges on them a sprinkling of gold
+pieces.
+
+It is not always the case that those who have rich relatives come in
+for good things from them. In many cases there are such on whom Luck
+turns her back, but to those of whom we speak the rain of gold, and
+the snow of scrip and bonds come unexpectedly, but inevitably. Just as
+Pilatus catches every cloud that drifts over Switzerland, so do they
+by some fatality catch something out of every trouble, that tends
+materially to solace their feelings, lacerated by that trouble. But
+not so only. These little showers fall to them from relatives they
+have taken no trouble to keep on good terms with, from acquaintances
+whom they have cut, admirers whose good opinion they have not
+concerned themselves to cultivate, friends with whom they have
+quarrelled. Gideon's fleece, on one occasion, gathered to itself all
+the dew that fell, and left the grass of the field around quite dry.
+So do these fortunate persons concentrate on themselves, fortuitively
+it seems, the dew of richness that descends and might have, ought to
+have, dropped elsewhere; at all events, ought to have been more evenly
+and impartially distributed. Gideon's fleece, on another occasion was
+dry, when all the glebe was dripping. So is it with certain
+unfortunates, Luck never favors them. What they have expected and
+counted on they do not get, it is diverted, it drops round about them
+on every side, only on them it never falls.
+
+Now, Miss Trevisa cannot be said to have belonged to either of these
+classes. To the latter she had pertained till suddenly, from a
+quarter quite unregarded, there came down on her a very satisfactory
+little splash. Of relatives that were rich she had none, because she
+had no relatives at all. Of bosom friends she had none, for her bosom
+was of that unyielding nature, that no one would like to be taken to
+it. But, before the marriage of her brother, and before he became
+rector of S. Enodoc, when he was but a poor curate, she had been
+companion to a spinster lady, Miss Ceely, near S. Austell. Now the
+companion is supposed to be a person without an opinion of her own,
+always standing in a cringing position to receive the opinion of her
+mistress, then to turn it over and give it forth as her own. She is,
+if she be a proper companion, a mere echo of the sentiments of her
+employer. Moreover, she is expected to be amiable, never to resent a
+rude word, never to take umbrage at neglect, always to be ready to
+dance attendance on her mistress, and with enthusiasm of devotion,
+real or simulated, to carry out her most absurd wishes, unreasoningly.
+But Miss Trevisa had been, as a companion, all that a companion ought
+not to be. She had argued with Miss Ceely, invariably, had crossed her
+opinions, had grumbled at her when she asked that anything might be
+done, raised difficulties, piled up objections, blocked the way to
+whatever Miss Ceely particularly set the heart on having executed. The
+two ladies were always quarrelling, always calling each other names,
+and it was a marvel to the relatives of Miss Ceely that she and her
+companion hung together for longer than a month. Nevertheless they
+did. Miss Trevisa left the old lady when Mr. Peter Trevisa became
+rector of S. Enodoc, and then Miss Ceely obtained in her place quite
+an ideal companion, a very mirror--she had but to look on her face,
+smile, and a smile was repeated, weep, and tears came in the mirror.
+The new companion grovelled at her feet, licked the dust off her
+shoes, fawned on her hand, ran herself off her legs to serve her, grew
+gray under the misery of enduring Miss Ceely's jibes and sneers and
+insults, finally sacrificed her health in nursing her. When Miss
+Ceely's will was opened it was found that she had left nothing--not a
+farthing to this obsequious attendant, but had bequeathed fifteen
+hundred pounds, free of legacy duty, and all her furniture and her
+house to Miss Trevisa, with whom she had not kept up correspondence
+for twenty-three years. It really seemed as if leathery, rusty Aunt
+Dionysia, from being a dry Gideon's fleece, were about to be turned
+into a wet and wringable fleece. No one was more astounded than
+herself.
+
+It was now necessary that Miss Trevisa should go to S. Austell and see
+after what had come to her thus unsolicited and unexpectedly. All need
+for her to remain at Pentyre was at an end.
+
+Before she departed--not finally, but to see about the furniture that
+was now hers, and to make up her mind whether to keep or to sell
+it--she called Judith to her.
+
+That day, the events of which were given in last chapter, had produced
+a profound impression on Jamie. He had become gloomy, timid, and
+silent. His old idle chatter ceased. He clung to his sister, and
+accompanied her wherever she went; he could not endure to be with
+Coppinger. When he heard his voice, caught a glimpse of him, he ran
+away and hid. Jamie had been humored as a child, never beaten,
+scolded, put in a corner, sent to bed, cut off his pudding, but the
+rod had now been applied to his back and his first experience of
+corporal punishment was the cruel and vindictive hiding administered,
+not for any fault he had committed but because he had done his
+sister's bidding. He was filled with hatred of Coppinger, mingled with
+fear, and when alone with Judith would break out into exclamations of
+entreaty that she would run away with him, and of detestation of the
+man who held them there, as it were prisoners.
+
+"Ju," said he, "I wish he were dead. I hate him. Why doesn't God kill
+him and set us free!"
+
+At another time he said, "Ju, dear! You do not love him. I wish I were
+a big strong man like Oliver, and I would do what Captain Cruel did."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Captain Cruel shot at Oliver."
+
+This was the first tidings Judith had heard of the attempt on Oliver's
+life.
+
+"He is a mean coward," said Jamie. "He hid behind a hedge and shot at
+him. But he did not hurt him."
+
+"God preserved him," said Judith.
+
+"Why does not God preserve us! Why did God let that beast----"
+
+"Hush, Jamie!"
+
+"I will not--that wretch--beat me? Why did He not send lightning and
+strike him dead?"
+
+"I cannot tell you, darling. We must wait and trust."
+
+"I am tired of waiting and trusting. If I had a gun I would not shoot
+birds, I would go behind a hedge and shoot Captain Coppinger. There
+would be nothing wrong in that, Ju?"
+
+"Yes there would. It would be a sin."
+
+"Not after he did that to Oliver."
+
+"I would never--never love you, if you did that."
+
+"You would always love me whatever I did," said Jamie. He spoke the
+truth, Judith knew it. Her eyes filled, she drew the boy to her
+passionately and kissed his golden head.
+
+Then came Aunt Dionysia and summoned her into her own room. Jamie
+followed.
+
+"Judith," began Aunt Dunes, in her usual hard tones, and with the same
+frozen face, "I wish you particularly to understand. Look here! You
+have caused me annoyance enough while I have been here. Now I shall
+have a house of my own at S. Austell, and if I choose to live in it I
+can. If I do not, I can let it, and live at Othello Cottage. I have
+not made up my mind what to do. Fifteen hundred pounds is a dirty
+little sum, and not half as much as ought to have been left me for all
+I had to bear from that old woman. I am glad for one thing that she
+has left me something, though not much. I should have despaired of her
+salvation had she not. However her heart was touched at the last,
+though not touched enough. Now what I want you to understand is
+this--it entirely depends on your conduct whether after my death this
+sum of fifteen hundred pounds and a beggarly sum of about five hundred
+I have of my own, comes to you or not. As long as this nonsense goes
+on between you and Captain Coppinger--you pretending you are not
+married, when you are, there is no security for me that you and Jamie
+may not come tumbling in upon me and become a burden to me. Captain
+Coppinger will not endure this fooling much longer. _He_ can take
+advantage of your mistake. _He_ can say--I am not married. Where is
+the evidence? Produce proof of the marriage having been
+solemnized--and then he may send you out of his house upon the downs
+in the cold. What would you be then, eh? All the world holds you to
+be Mrs. Coppinger. A nice state of affairs, if it wakes up one morning
+to hear that Mrs. Coppinger has been kicked out of the Glaze, that she
+never was the wife. What will the world say, eh? What sort of name
+will the world give you, when you have lived here as his wife."
+
+"That I have not."
+
+"Lived here, gone to balls as his wife when you were not. What will
+the world call you, eh?"
+
+Judith was silent, holding both her hands, open against her bosom.
+Jamie beside her, looking up in her face, not understanding what his
+aunt was saying.
+
+"Very well--or rather very ill!" continued Miss Trevisa. "And then you
+and this boy here will come to me to take you in, come and saddle
+yourselves on me, and eat up my little fund. That is what will be the
+end of it, if you remain in your folly. Go at once to the rector, and
+put your name where it should have been two months ago, and your
+position is secure, he cannot drive you away, disgusted at your
+stubbornness, and you will relieve me of a constant source of
+uneasiness. It is not that only, but I must care for the good name of
+Trevisa, which you happen to bear, that that name may not be trailed
+in the dust. The common sense of the matter is precisely what you
+cannot see. If you are not Coppinger's wife you should not be here. If
+you are Coppinger's wife, then your name should be in the register.
+Now here you have come. You have appeared in public with him. You have
+but one course open to you, and that is to secure your position and
+your name and honor. You cannot undo what is done, but you can
+complete what is done insufficiently. The choice between alternatives
+is no longer before you. If you had purposed to withdraw from
+marriage, break off the engagement, then you should not have come on
+to Pentyre, and remained here. As, however, you did this, there is
+absolutely nothing else to be done, but to sign the register. Do you
+hear me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you will obey?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Pig-headed fool," said Miss Trevisa. "Not one penny will I leave you.
+That I swear, if you remain obstinate."
+
+"Do not let us say anything more about that, aunt. Now you are going
+away, is there anything connected with the house you wish me to attend
+to? That I will do readily."
+
+"Yes, there are several things," growled Miss Trevisa, "and, first of
+all, are you disposed to do anything, any common little kindness for
+the man whose bread you eat, whose roof covers you?"
+
+"Yes, aunt."
+
+"Very well, then. Captain Coppinger has his bowl of porridge every
+morning. I suppose he was accustomed to it before he came into these
+parts, and he cannot breakfast without it. He says that our Cornish
+maids cannot make porridge properly, and I have been accustomed to see
+to it. Either it is lumpy, or it is watery, or it is saltless. Will
+you see to that?"
+
+"Yes, aunt, willingly."
+
+"You ought to know how to make porridge, as you are more than half
+Scottish."
+
+"I certainly can make it. Dear papa always liked it."
+
+"Then you will attend to that. If you are too high and too great a
+lady to put your hand to it yourself, you can see that the cook
+manages it aright. There is a new girl in now, who is a fool."
+
+"I will make it myself. I will do all I can do."
+
+"Then take the keys. Now that I go, you must be mistress of the house.
+But for your folly, I might have been from here, and in my own house,
+or rather in that given me for my use, Othello Cottage. I was to have
+gone there directly after your marriage, I had furnished it, and made
+it comfortable, and then you took to your fantastic notions, and hung
+back, and refused to allow that you were married, and so I had to
+stick on here two months. Here, take the keys." Miss Trevisa almost
+flung them at her niece. "Now I have two thousand pounds of my own,
+and a house at S. Austell, it does not become me to be doing menial
+service. Take the keys. I will never have them back."
+
+When Miss Trevisa was gone, and Judith was by herself at night, Jamie
+being asleep, she was able to think over calmly what her aunt had
+said. She concerned herself not the least, relative to the promise her
+aunt had made of leaving her two thousand pounds, were she
+submissive, and her threat of disinheriting her, should she continue
+recalcitrant, but she did feel that there was truth in her aunt's
+words when she said that she, Judith, had placed herself in a wrong
+position--but it was a wrong position into which she had been forced,
+she had not voluntarily entered it. She had, indeed, consented to
+become Coppinger's wife, but when she found that Coppinger had
+employed Jamie to give signals that might mislead a vessel to its ruin
+she could not go further to meet him. Although he had endeavored to
+clear himself in her eyes, she did not believe him. She was convinced
+that he was guilty, though at moments she hoped, and tried to persuade
+herself that he was not. Then came the matter of the diamonds. There,
+again, the gravest suspicion rested on him. Again he had endeavored to
+exculpate himself, yet she could not believe that he was innocent.
+Till full confidence that he was blameless in these matters was
+restored, an insuperable wall divided them. Never would she belong to
+a man who was a wrecker, who belonged to that class of criminals her
+father had regarded with the utmost horror.
+
+Before she retired to bed, she picked up from under the fender the
+scrap of paper on which Oliver's message had been written. It had lain
+there unobserved where Coppinger had flung it, now, as she tidied her
+room, and arranged the fire-rug, she observed it. She smoothed it out,
+folded it, and went to her workbox to replace it where it had been
+before.
+
+She raised the lid, and was about to put the note among some other
+papers she had there, a letter of her mother's, a piece of her
+father's writing, some little accounts she had kept, when she was
+startled to see that the packet of arsenic Mr. Menaida had given her
+was missing.
+
+She turned out the contents of her workbox. It was nowhere to be
+found, either there, or in her drawers. Her aunt must have been prying
+into the box, have found and removed it, so Judith thought, and with
+this thought appeased her alarm. Perhaps, considering the danger of
+having arsenic about, Aunt Dionysia had done right in removing it. She
+had done wrong in doing so without speaking to Judith.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+A SECOND LIE.
+
+
+Next day, Miss Trevisa being gone, Judith had to attend to the work of
+the house. It was her manifest duty to do so. Hitherto she had shrunk
+from the responsibility, because she shrank from assuming a position
+in the house to which she refused to consider that she had a right.
+Judith was perfectly competent to manage an establishment, she had a
+clear head, a love of order, and a power of exacting obedience of
+servants without incessant reproof. Moreover, she had that faculty
+possessed by few of directing others in their work so that each moved
+along his or her own line and fulfilled the allotted work with ease.
+She had managed her father's house, and managed it admirably. She knew
+that, as the king's government must be carried on, so the routine of a
+household must be kept going. Judith had sufficient acquaintance also
+with servants to be aware that the wheel would stop or move
+spasmodically, unless an authoritative hand were applied to it to keep
+it in even revolution. She knew also that whatever happened in a
+house--a birth, a death, a wedding, an uproar--the round of common
+duties must be discharged, the meals prepared, the bread baked, the
+milk skimmed, the beds made, the carpets swept, the furniture dusted,
+the windows opened, the blinds drawn down, the table laid, the silver
+and glass burnished. Nothing save a fire which gutted a house must
+interfere with all this routine. Miss Trevisa was one of those ladies
+who, in their own opinion, are condemned by Providence never to have
+good servants. A benign Providence sheds good domestics into every
+other house, save that which she rules. She is born under a star which
+inexorably sends the scum and dregs of servantdom under her sceptre.
+Miss Trevisa regarded a servant as a cat regards a mouse, a dog
+regards a fox, and a dolphin a flying-fish, as something to be run
+after, snapped at, clawed, leaped upon, worried perpetually. She was
+incapable of believing that there could be any good in a servant, that
+there was any other side to a domestic save a seamy side. She could
+make no allowance for ignorance, for weakness, for lightheartedness. A
+servant in her eyes must be a drudge ever working, never speaking,
+smiling, taking a hand off the duster, without a mind above flue and
+tea-leaves, and unable to soar above a cobweb; with a temper perfect
+in endurance of daily, hourly fault-finding, nagging, grumbling, a
+mind unambitious also of commendation. Miss Trevisa held that every
+servant that a malign Providence had sent her was clumsy, insolent,
+slatternly, unmethodical, idle, wasteful, a gossip, a gadabout, a
+liar, a thief, was dainty, greedy, one of a cursed generation; and
+when in the Psalms, David launched out in denunciation of the enemies
+of the Lord, Miss Trevisa, when she heard or read these Psalms,
+thought of servantdom. Servants were referred to when David said,
+"Hide me from the insurrection of the wicked doers, who have whet
+their tongues like a sword, that they may privily shoot at him that is
+perfect," _i.e._, me, was Miss Trevisa's comment. "They encourage
+themselves in mischief; and commune among themselves how they may lay
+snares, and say, that no man shall see them." "And how," said Miss
+Trevisa, "can men be so blind as not to believe that the Bible is
+inspired when David hits the character of servants off to the life!"
+
+And not the Psalms only, but the Prophets were full of servants'
+delinquencies. What were Tyre and Egypt but figures of servantdom
+shadowed before. What else did Isaiah lift up his testimony about, and
+Jeremiah lament over, but the iniquities of the kitchen and the
+servants' hall. Miss Trevisa read her Bible, and great comfort did it
+afford her, because it did denounce the servant maids so unsparingly
+and prepared brimstone and outer darkness for them.
+
+Now Judith had seen and heard much of the way in which Miss Trevisa
+managed Captain Coppinger's house. Her room adjoined that of her aunt,
+and she knew that if her aunt were engaged on--it mattered not what
+absorbing work, embroidery, darning a stocking, reading a novel,
+saying her prayers, studying the cookery book--if a servant sneezed
+within a hundred yards, or upset a drop of water, or clanked a
+dust-pan, or clicked a door-handle, Miss Trevisa would be distracted
+from her work and rush out of her room, just as a spider darts from
+its recess, and sweep down on the luckless servant to worry and abuse
+her.
+
+Judith, knowing this, knew also that the day of Miss Trevisa's
+departure would be marked with white chalk, and lead to a general
+relaxation of discipline, to an inhaling of long breaths, and a
+general stretching and taking of ease. It was necessary, therefore,
+that she should go round and see that the wheel was kept turning.
+
+To her surprise, on entering the hall, she found Captain Coppinger
+there.
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said, "I thought you were out."
+
+She looked at him and was struck with his appearance, the clay-like
+color of his face, the dark lines in it, the faded look in his eyes.
+
+"Are you unwell?" she asked; "you really look ill."
+
+"I am ill."
+
+"Ill--what is the matter?"
+
+"A burning in my throat. Cramp and pains--but what is that to you?"
+
+"When did it come on?"
+
+"But recently."
+
+"Will you not have a doctor to see you?"
+
+"A doctor!--no."
+
+"Was the porridge as you liked it this morning? I made it."
+
+"It was good enough."
+
+"Would you like more now?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And to-morrow morning, will you have the same?"
+
+"Yes--the same."
+
+"I will make it again. Aunt said the new cook did not understand how
+to mix and boil it to your liking."
+
+Coppinger nodded.
+
+Judith remained standing and observing him. Some faces when touched by
+pain and sickness are softened and sweetened. The hand of suffering
+passes over the countenance and brushes away all that is frivolous,
+sordid, vulgar; it gives dignity, purity, refinement, and shows what
+the inner soul might be were it not entangled and degraded by base
+association and pursuit. It is different with other faces, the hand of
+suffering films away the assumed expression of good nature, honesty,
+straightforwardness, and unmasks the evil inner man. The touch of pain
+had not improved the expression of Cruel Coppinger. It cannot,
+however, with justice be said that the gentler aspect of the man,
+which Judith had at one time seen, was an assumption. He was a man in
+whom there was a certain element of good, but it was mixed up with
+headlong wilfulness, utter selfishness, and resolution to have his own
+way at any cost.
+
+Judith could see, now that his face was pain-struck, how much of evil
+there was in the soul that had been disguised by a certain dash of
+masculine overbearing and brusqueness.
+
+"What are you looking at?" asked Coppinger, glancing up.
+
+"I was thinking," answered Judith.
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Of you--of Wyvill, of the wreck on Doom Bar, of the jewels of Lady
+Knighton, and last of all of Jamie's maltreatment."
+
+"And what of all that?" he said in irritable scorn.
+
+"That I need not say. I have drawn my own conclusions."
+
+"You torment me, you--when I am ill? They call me Cruel, but it is you
+who are cruel."
+
+Judith did not wish to be drawn into discussion that must be
+fruitless. She said, quietly, in altered tone, "Can I get you anything
+to comfort you?"
+
+"No--go your way. This will pass. Besides, it is naught to you. Go; I
+would be left alone."
+
+Judith obeyed, but she was uneasy. She had never seen Coppinger look
+as he looked now. It was other, altogether, after he had broken his
+arm. Other, also, when for a day he was crippled with bruises, after
+the wreck. She looked into the hall several times during the day. In
+the afternoon he was easier, and went out; his mouth had been parched
+and burning, and he had been drinking milk. The empty glass was on the
+table. He would eat nothing at mid-day. He turned from food, and left
+the room for his own chamber.
+
+Judith was anxious. She more than once endeavored to draw Coppinger
+into conversation relative to himself, but he would not speak of what
+affected him. He was annoyed and ashamed at being out of his usual
+rude health.
+
+"It is naught," he said, "but a bilious attack, and will pass. Leave
+me alone."
+
+She had been so busy all day, that she had seen little of Jamie. He
+had taken advantage of Captain Coppinger not being about, to give
+himself more license to roam than he had of late, and to go with his
+donkey on the cliffs. Anyhow Judith on this day did not have him
+hanging to her skirts. She was glad of it, for, though she loved him,
+he would have been an encumbrance when she was so busy.
+
+The last thing at night she did was to go to Coppinger to inquire what
+he would take. He desired nothing but spirits and milk. He thought
+that a milk-punch would give him ease and make him sleep. That he was
+weak and had suffered pain she saw, and she was full of pity for him.
+But this she did not like to exhibit, partly because he might
+misunderstand her feelings, and partly because he seemed irritated at
+being unwell, and at loss of power; irritated, at all events, at it
+being observed that he was not in his usual plenitude of strength and
+health.
+
+That night the Atlantic was troubled, and the wind carried the billows
+against the cliffs in a succession of rhythmic roars that filled the
+air with sound and made the earth quiver. Judith could not sleep, she
+listened to the thud of the water-heaps flung against the rocks; there
+was a clock on the stairs and in her wakefulness she listened to the
+tick of the clock, and the boom of the waves, now coming together,
+then one behind the other, now the wave-beat catching up the
+clock-tick, then falling in arrear, the ocean getting angry and making
+up its pace by a double beat. Moreover flakes of foam were carried on
+the wind and came, like snow, against her window that looked seaward
+striking the glass and adhering to it.
+
+As Judith lay watchful in the night her mind again recurred to the
+packet of arsenic that had been abstracted from her workbox. It was
+inconsiderate of her to have left it there; she ought to have locked
+her box. But who could have supposed that anyone would have gone to
+the box, raised the tray and searched the contents of the compartment
+beneath? Judith had been unaccustomed to lock up anything, because she
+had never had any secrets to hide from any eye. She again considered
+the probability of her aunt having removed it, and then it occurred to
+her that perhaps Miss Trevisa might have supposed that she--Judith--in
+a fit of revolt against the wretchedness of her life might be induced
+to take the poison herself and finish her miseries. "It was absurd if
+Aunt Dunes thought that," said Judith to herself; "she can little have
+known how my dear Papa's teaching has sunk into my heart, to suppose
+me capable of such a thing--and then--to run away like a coward and
+leave Jamie unprotected. It was too absurd."
+
+Next morning Judith was in her room getting a large needle with which
+to hem a bit of carpet edge that had been fraying for the last five
+years, and which no one had thought of putting a thread to, and so
+arresting the disintegration. Jamie was in the room. Judith said to
+him:
+
+"My dear, you have not been skinning and stuffing any birds lately,
+have you?"
+
+"No, Ju."
+
+"Because I have missed--but, Jamie, I hope you have not been at my
+workbox?"
+
+"What about your workbox, Ju?"
+
+She knew the boy so well, that her suspicions were at once aroused by
+this answer. When he had nothing to hide he replied with a direct
+negative or affirmative, but when he had done what his conscience
+would not quite allow was right, he fell into equivocation, and
+shuffled awkwardly.
+
+"Jamie," said Judith, looking him straight in the face, "have you been
+to my box?"
+
+"Only just looked in."
+
+Then he ran to the window. "Oh, do see, Ju, how patched the glass is
+with foam!--and is it not dirty?"
+
+"Jamie, come back. I want an answer."
+
+He had opened the casement and put his hand out and was wiping off the
+patches of froth.
+
+"What a lot of it there is, Ju."
+
+"Come here, instantly, Jamie, and shut the window."
+
+The boy obeyed, creeping toward her sideways, with his head down.
+
+"Jamie, did you lift the tray?"
+
+"Only on one side, just a little bit."
+
+"Did you take anything from under the tray?"
+
+He did not answer immediately. She looked at him searchingly and in
+suspense. He never could endure this questioning look of hers, and he
+ran to her, put his arms round her waist, and clasped to her side, hid
+his face in her gown.
+
+"Only a little."
+
+"A little what?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Jamie, no lies. There was a blue paper there containing poison, that
+you were not to have unless there were occasion for it--some bird skin
+to be preserved and dressed with it. Now, did you take that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Go and bring it back to me immediately."
+
+"I can't."
+
+"Why not? Where is it?"
+
+The boy fidgeted, looked up in his sister's face to see what
+expression it bore, buried his head again, and said:
+
+"Ju! he is rightly called Cruel. I hate him, and so do you, don't you,
+Ju? I have put the arsenic into his oatmeal, and we will get rid of
+him and be free and go away. It will be jolly."
+
+"Jamie!" with a cry of horror.
+
+"He won't whip me and scold you any more."
+
+"Jamie! Oh, my Lord, have pity on him! have pity on us!"
+
+She clasped her hands to her head, rushed from the room, and flew down
+the stairs.
+
+But ten minutes before that Judith had given Coppinger his bowl of
+porridge. He had risen late that morning. He was better, he said, and
+he looked more himself than the preceding day. He was now seated at
+the table in the hall, and had poured the fresh milk into the bowl,
+had dipped the spoon, put some of the porridge to his mouth, tasted,
+and was looking curiously into the spoon, when the door was flung
+open, Judith entered, and without a word of explanation, caught the
+bowl from him and dashed it on the floor.
+
+Coppinger looked at her with his boring, dark eyes intently, and said:
+"What is the meaning of this?"
+
+"It is poisoned."
+
+Judith was breathless. She drew back relieved at having cast away the
+fatal mess.
+
+Coppinger rose to his feet, and glared at her across the table,
+leaning with his knuckles on the board. He did not speak for a moment,
+his face became livid, and his hands resting on the table shook as
+though he were shivering in an ague.
+
+"There is arsenic in the porridge," gasped Judith.
+
+She had not time to weigh what she should say, how explain her
+conduct; but one thought had held her--to save Coppinger's life while
+there was yet time.
+
+The Captain's dog that had been lying at his master's feet rose, went
+to the spilt porridge, and began to lap the milk and devour the paste.
+Neither Judith nor Coppinger regarded him.
+
+"It was an accident," faltered Judith.
+
+"You lie," said Coppinger, in thrilling tones, "you lie, you
+murderess! You sought to kill me."
+
+Judith did not answer for a moment. She also was trembling. She had to
+resolve what course to pursue. She could not, she would not, betray
+her brother, and subject him to the worst brutality of treatment from
+the infuriated man whose life he had sought.
+
+It were better for her to take the blame on herself.
+
+"I made the porridge--I and no one else."
+
+"You told me so, yesterday." He maintained his composure marvellously,
+but he was stunned by the sudden discovery of treachery in the woman
+he had loved and worshipped.
+
+"You maddened me by your treatment, but I did not desire that you
+should die. I repented and have saved your life."
+
+As Judith spoke she felt as though the flesh of her face stiffened,
+and the skin became as parchment. She could hardly open her mouth to
+speak and stir her tongue.
+
+"Go!" said Coppinger, pointing to the door. "Go, you and your brother.
+Othello cottage is empty. Go, murderess, poisoner of your husband,
+there and wait till you hear from me. Under one roof, to eat off one
+board, is henceforth impossible. Go!" he remained pointing, and a
+sulphurous fire flickered in his eyes.
+
+Then the hound began to howl, threw itself down, its limbs were
+contracted, it foamed at the mouth, and howled again.
+
+To the howlings of the poisoned and dying dog Judith and Jamie left
+Pentyre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+FAST IN HIS HANDS.
+
+
+Judith and Jamie were together in Othello Cottage--banished from
+Pentyre with a dark and threatening shadow over them, but this,
+however, gave the boy but little concern; he was delighted to be away
+from a house where he had been in incessant terror, and where he was
+under restraint; moreover, it was joy to him to be now where he need
+not meet Coppinger at every turn.
+
+Judith forbade his going to Polzeath to see Uncle Zachie and Oliver
+Menaida, as she thought it advisable, under the circumstances, to keep
+themselves to themselves, and above all not to give further occasion
+for the suspicions and jealousy of Coppinger. This was to her, under
+the present condition of affairs, specially distressing, as she needed
+some counsel as to what she should do. Uncle Zachie at his best was a
+poor adviser, but on no account now would she appeal to his son. She
+was embarrassed and alarmed. And she had excuse for embarrassment and
+alarm. She had taken upon herself the attempt that had been made on
+the life of Coppinger, and he would, she supposed, believe her to be
+guilty.
+
+What would he do? Would he proceed against her for attempted murder?
+If so, the case against her was very complete. It could be shown that
+Mr. Menaida had given her this arsenic, that she had kept it by her in
+her workbox while at the Glaze, that she had been on the most
+unsatisfactory terms with Captain Coppinger, and that she had refused
+to complete her marriage with him by appending her signature to the
+register. She was now aware--and the thought made her feel sick at
+heart and faint--that her association with the Menaidas had been most
+injudicious and had been capable of misinterpretation. It had been
+misinterpreted by Coppinger, and probably also by the gossips of
+Polzeath. It could be shown that a secret correspondence had been
+carried on between her and Oliver, which had been intercepted by her
+husband. This was followed immediately by the attempt to poison
+Coppinger. The arsenic had been given him in the porridge her own
+hands had mixed, and which had been touched by no one else. It was
+natural to conclude that she had deliberately purposed to destroy her
+husband, that she might be free to marry Oliver Menaida.
+
+If she were prosecuted on the criminal charge of attempted murder, the
+case could be made so conclusive against her that her conviction was
+certain.
+
+Her only chance of escape lay in two directions--one that she should
+tell the truth, and allow Jamie to suffer the consequences of what he
+had done, which would be prison or a lunatic asylum. The other was
+that she should continue to screen him and trust that Coppinger would
+not prosecute her. He might hesitate about proceeding with such a
+case, which would attract attention to himself, to his household, and
+lay bare to the public eye much that he would reasonably be supposed
+to wish to keep concealed. If, for instance, the case were brought
+into court the story of the enforced marriage must come out, and that
+would rake up once more the mystery of the wreckers on Doom Bar, and
+of Lady Knighton's jewels. Coppinger might and probably would grasp at
+the other alternative--take advantage of the incompletion of the
+marriage, repudiate her, and let the matter of the poisoned porridge
+remain untouched.
+
+The more Judith turned the matter over in her head the more sure she
+became that the best course, indeed the only one in which safety lay,
+was for her to continue to assume to herself the guilt of the attempt
+on Coppinger's life. He would see by her interference the second time,
+and prevention of his taking a second portion of the arsenic, that she
+did not really seek his life, but sought to force him, through
+personal fear, to drive her from his house and break the bond by which
+he bound her to him. For the sake of this going back from a purpose of
+murder, or from thinking that she had never intended to do more than
+drive him to a separation by alarm for his own safety; for the sake of
+the old love he had borne her, he might forbear pressing this matter
+to its bitter consequences, and accept what she desired--their
+separation.
+
+But if Judith allowed the truth to come out, then her husband would
+have no such compunction. It would be an opportunity for him to get
+rid of the boy he detested, and even if he did not have him consigned
+to jail, then it would be only because he would send him to an asylum.
+
+Judith went out on the cliffs. The sea was troubled, far as the
+horizon, strewn with white horses shaking their manes, pawing and
+prancing in their gallop landward. There was no blue, no greenness in
+the ocean now. The dull tinctures of winter were in it. The Atlantic
+wore its scowl, was leaden and impatient. The foam on the rocks was
+driven up in spouts into the air and carried over the downs, it caught
+in the thorn bushes like flocks of wool, and was no cleaner. It lay
+with the thin melting snow and melted with it into a dirty slush. It
+plastered the face of Othello Cottage as though, in brutal insolence,
+Ocean had been spitting at the house that was built of the wreck he
+had failed to gulp down, though he had chewed the life out of it. The
+foam rested in flakes on the rushes where it hung and fluttered like
+tufts of cotton-grass. It was dropped about by the wind for miles
+inland as though the wind were running in a paper chase. It was as
+though sky and sea were contending in a game of pelting the land, the
+one with snow, the other with foam, the one sweet, the other salt.
+Judith walked where, near the edge of the cliffs, there was no snow,
+and looked out at the angry ocean. All without was cold, rugged,
+ruffled, wretched; and within her heart burned a fire of apprehension,
+distress, almost of despair. All at once she came upon Mr. Desiderius
+Mules, walking in an opposite direction, engaged in wiping the
+foam-flakes out of his eyes.
+
+"Halloo! you here Mrs. Coppinger?" exclaimed the rector; "glad to see
+you. I'm not here like S. Anthony preaching to the fishes, because I
+am a practical man. In the first place, in such a disturbed sea the
+fishes would have enough to do to look after themselves and would be
+ill-disposed to lend me an ear. In the next place the wind is on
+shore, and they would not hear me were I to lift up my voice. So I
+don't waste words and over-strain my larynx. If the bishop were a mile
+or a mile and a half inland, it might be different, he might admire my
+zeal. And what brings you here?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Mules!" exclaimed Judith, with a leap of hope in her
+heart--here was someone who might if he would be a help to her. She
+had indeed made up her own mind as to what was the safest road on
+which to set her feet, but she was timid, shrank from falsehood, and
+earnestly craved for someone to whom she could speak, and from whom
+she could obtain advice.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Mules! will you give me some advice and assistance?"
+
+"Advice, by all means," said the rector. "I'll turn and walk your way,
+the froth is blown into my face and stings it. My skin is sensitive,
+so are my eyes. Upon my word, when I get home my face will be as salt
+as if I had flooded it with tears--fancy me crying. What did you say
+you wanted--advice?"
+
+"Advice and assistance."
+
+"Advice you shall have, it is my profession to give it. I mix it with
+pepper and salt and serve it out in soup plates every week--am ready
+with it every day, Mrs. Coppinger. I have buckets of it at your
+disposal, bring your tureen and I'll tip in as much of the broth as
+you want, and may you like it. As to assistance, that is another
+matter. Pecuniary assistance I never give. I am unable to do so. My
+principles stand in the way. I have set up a high standard for myself
+and I stick to it. I never render pecuniary assistance to any one, as
+it demoralizes the receiver. I hope and trust it was not pecuniary
+assistance you wanted."
+
+"No, Mr. Mules--not that, only guidance."
+
+"Oh, guidance! I'm your sign-post, where do you want to go!"
+
+"It is this, sir. I have given poison to Mr. Coppinger."
+
+"Mercy on me!" the rector jumped back and turned much the tinge of the
+foam plasters that were on his face.
+
+"That is to say, I gave him arsenic mixed with his porridge the day
+before yesterday, and it made him very ill. Yesterday----"
+
+"Hush, hush!" said Mr. Mules, "no more of this. This is ghastly. Let
+us say it is hallucination on your part. You are either not right in
+your head or are very wicked. If you please--don't come nearer to me.
+I can hear you quite well, hear a great deal more than pleases me.
+You ask my advice, and I give it: Sign the register, that will set me
+square, and put me in an unassailable position with the public, and
+also, secondarily, it will be to your advantage. You are now a
+nondescript, and a nondescript is objectionable. If you please--you
+will excuse me--I should prefer _not_ standing between you and the
+cliff. There is no knowing what a person who confesses to poisoning
+her husband might do. If it be a case of lunacy--well, more reason
+that I should use precautions. My life is valuable. Come, there is
+only one thing you can do to make me comfortable--sign the register."
+
+"You will not mention what I have told you to anyone?"
+
+"Save and defend us! I speak of it!--I! Come, come, be rational. Sign
+the register and set my mind at ease, that is all I want and ask for,
+and then I wash my hands of you."
+
+Then away went Mr. Desiderius Mules, with the wind catching his coat
+tails, twisting them, throwing them up against his back, parting them,
+and driving them one on each of him, taking and cutting them and
+sending them between his legs.
+
+Judith stood mournfully looking after him. The sign-post, as he had
+called himself was flying from the traveller whom it was his duty to
+direct.
+
+Then a hand was laid on her arm. She started, turned and saw Oliver
+Menaida, flushed with rapid walking and with the fresh air he had
+encountered.
+
+"I have come to see you," he said. "I have come to offer you my
+father's and my assistance. We have just heard----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"That Captain Coppinger has turned you and Jamie out of his house."
+
+"Have you heard any reason assigned?"
+
+"Because--so it is said--he had beaten the boy, and you were incensed,
+angry words passed--and it ended in a rupture."
+
+"That, then, is the common explanation?"
+
+"Everyone is talking about it. Everyone says that. And now, what will
+you do?"
+
+"Thank you. Jamie and I are at Othello Cottage, where we are
+comfortable. My aunt had furnished it intending to reside in it
+herself. As for our food, we receive that from the Glaze."
+
+"But this cannot continue."
+
+"It must continue for a while."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"The future is not open to my eyes."
+
+"Judith, that has taken place at length which I have been long
+expecting."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"This miserable condition of affairs has reached its climax, and there
+has been a turn."
+
+Judith sighed. "It has taken a turn, indeed."
+
+"Now that Captain Coppinger has been brought to his senses, and he
+sees that your resolve is not to be shaken, and he releases you, or
+you have released yourself from the thraldom you have been in. I do
+not suppose the popular account of the matter is true, wholly."
+
+"It is not at all true."
+
+"That matters not. The fact remains that you are out of Pentyre Glaze
+and your own mistress. The snare is broken and you are delivered."
+
+Again Judith sighed, and she shook her head despondingly.
+
+"You are free," persisted Oliver, "just consider. You were hurried
+through a marriage when insensible, and when you came to consciousness
+you did what was the only thing you could do--you absolutely refused
+your signature that would validate what had taken place. That was
+conclusive. That ceremony was as worthless as this sea-foam that blows
+by. No court in the world would hold that you were bound by it. The
+consent, the free consent, of each party in such a convention is
+essential. As to your being at Pentyre, nothing against that can be
+alleged; Miss Trevisa was your aunt and constituted your guardian by
+your father. Your place was by her. To her you went when my father's
+house was no longer at your service through my return. At Pentyre you
+remained as long as Miss Trevisa was there. She went, and at once you
+left the house."
+
+"You do not understand."
+
+"Excuse me, I think I do. But no matter as to details. When your aunt
+went, you went also--as was proper under the circumstances. We have
+heard, I do not know whether it be true, that your aunt has come in
+for a good property."
+
+"For a little something."
+
+"Then, shall you go to her and reside with her?"
+
+"No; she will not have Jamie and me."
+
+"So we supposed. Now my father has a proposal to make. The firm to
+which I belong has been good enough to take me into partnership,
+esteeming my services far higher than they deserve, and I am to live
+at Oporto, and act for them there. As my income will now be far larger
+than my humble requirements, I have resolved to allow my dear father
+sufficient for him to live upon comfortably where he wills, and he has
+elected to follow me, and take up his abode in Portugal. Now what he
+has commissioned me to say is--will you go with him? Will you continue
+to regard him as Uncle Zachie, and be to him as his dear little niece,
+and keep house for him in the sunny southern land?"
+
+Judith's eyes filled with tears.
+
+"And Jamie is included in the invitation. He is to come also, and help
+my father to stuff the birds of Portugal. A new ornithological field
+is opening before him, he says and he must have help in it."
+
+"I cannot," said Judith, in a low tone, with her head sunk on her
+breast. "I cannot leave here till Captain Coppinger gives me leave."
+
+"But, surely, you are no longer bound to him?"
+
+"He holds me faster than before."
+
+"I cannot understand this."
+
+"No; because you do not know all."
+
+"Tell me the whole truth. Let me help you. Let my father help you. You
+little know how we both have our hearts in your service."
+
+"Well, I will tell you."
+
+But she hesitated and trembled. She fixed her eyes on the wild,
+foaming, leaden sea, and pressed her bosom with both hands.
+
+"I poisoned him."
+
+"Judith!"
+
+"It is true, I gave him arsenic, once; that your father had let me
+have for Jamie. If he had taken it the second time, when I offered it
+him in his bowl of porridge, he would be dead now. Do you see--he
+holds me in his hands and I cannot stir. I could not escape till I
+know what he intends to do with me. Now go--leave me to my fate."
+
+"Judith--it is not true! Though I hear this from your lips I will not
+believe it. No; you need my father's, you need my help more than
+ever." He put her hand to his lips. "It is white--innocent. I _know_
+it, in spite of your words."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+TWO ALTERNATIVES.
+
+
+When Judith returned to Othello Cottage, she was surprised to see a
+man promenading around it, flattening his nose at the window, so as to
+bring his eyes against the glass, then, finding that the breath from
+his nostrils dimmed the pane, wiping the glass and again flattening
+his nose. At first he held his hands on the window-ledge, but being
+incommoded by the refraction of the light, put his open hands against
+the pane, one on each side of his face. Having satisfied himself at
+one casement, he went to another, and made the same desperate efforts
+to see in at that.
+
+Judith coming up to the door, and putting the key in, disturbed him,
+he started, turned, and with a nose much like putty, but rapidly
+purpling with returned circulation, disclosed the features of Mr.
+Scantlebray, Senior.
+
+"Ah, ha!" said that gentleman, in no way disconcerted; "here I have
+you, after having been looking for my orphing charmer in every
+direction but the right one. With your favor I will come inside and
+have a chat."
+
+"Excuse me," said Judith, "but I do not desire to admit visitors."
+
+"But I am an exception. I'm the man who should have looked after your
+interests, and would have done it a deal better than others. And so
+there has been a rumpus, eh? What about?"
+
+"I really beg your pardon, Mr. Scantlebray, but I am engaged and
+cannot ask you to enter, nor delay conversing with you on the
+doorstep."
+
+"Oh, Jimminy! don't consider me. I'll stand on the doorstep and talk
+with you inside. Don't consider me; go on with what you have to do and
+let me amuse you. It must be dull and solitary here, but I will
+enliven you, though I have not my brother's gifts. Now, Obadiah is a
+man with a genius for entertaining people. He missed his way when he
+started in life; he would have made a comic actor. Bless your simple
+heart, had that man appeared on the boards, he would have brought the
+house down--"
+
+"I have no doubt whatever he missed his way when he took to keeping an
+asylum," said Judith.
+
+"We have all our gifts," said Scantlebray. "Mine is architecture, and
+'pon my honor as a gentleman, I do admire the structure of Othello
+Cottage, uncommon. You won't object to my pulling out my tape and
+taking the plan of the edifice, will you?"
+
+"The house belongs to Captain Coppinger; consult him."
+
+"My dear orphing, not a bit. I'm not on the best terms with that gent.
+There lies a tract of ruffled water between us. Not that I have given
+him cause for offence, but that he is not sweet upon me. He took off
+my hands the management of your affairs in the valuation business, and
+let me tell you--between me and you and that post yonder"--he walked
+in and laid his hand on a beam--"that he mismanaged it confoundedly.
+He is your husband, I am well aware, and I ought not to say this to
+you. He took the job into his hands because he had an eye to you, I
+knew that well enough. But he hadn't the gift--the faculty. Now I have
+made all that sort of thing my specialty. How many rooms have you in
+this house? What does that door lead to?"
+
+"Really, Mr. Scantlebray, you must excuse me; I am busy."
+
+"O, yes--vastly busy. Walking on the cliffs, eh! Alone, eh? Well, mum
+is the word. Come, make me your friend and tell me all about it. How
+came you here? There are all kind of stories afloat about the quarrel
+between you and your husband, and he is an Eolus, a Blustering Boreas,
+all the winds in one box. Not surprised. He blew up a gale against me
+once. Domestic felicity is a fable of the poets. Home is a region of
+cyclones, tornadoes, hurricanes--what you like; anything but a Pacific
+Ocean. Now, you won't mind my throwing an eye round this house, will
+you--a scientific eye? Architecture is my passion."
+
+"Mr. Scantlebray, that is my bedroom; I forbid you touching the
+handle. Excuse me--but I must request you to leave me in peace."
+
+"My dear creature," said Scantlebray, "scientific thirst before all.
+It is unslakable save by the acquisition of what it desires. The
+structure of this house, as well as its object, has always been a
+puzzle to me. So your aunt was to have lived here--the divine, the
+fascinating Dionysia, as I remember her years ago. It wasn't built for
+the lovely Dionysia, was it? No. Then for what object was it built?
+And why so long untenanted? These are nuts for you to crack."
+
+"I do not trouble myself about these questions. I must pray you to
+depart."
+
+"In half the twinkle of an eye," said Scantlebray. Then he seated
+himself. "Come, you haven't a superabundance of friends. Make me one
+and unburden your soul to me. What is it all about? Why are you here?
+What has caused this squabble? I have a brother a solicitor at Bodmin.
+Let me jot down the items, and we'll get a case out of it. Trust me as
+a friend, and I'll have you righted. I hear Miss Trevisa has come in
+for a fortune. Be a good girl, set your back against her and show
+fight."
+
+"I will thank you to leave the house," said Judith, haughtily. "A
+moment ago you made reference to your honor as a gentleman. I must
+appeal to that same honor which you pride yourself on possessing, and,
+by virtue of that, request you to depart."
+
+"I'll go, I'll go. But, my dear child, why are you in such a hurry to
+get rid of me? Are you expecting some one? It is an odd thing, but as
+I came along I was overtaken by Mr. Oliver Menaida, making his way to
+the downs--to look at the sea, which is rough, and inhale the breeze
+of the ocean, of course. At one time, I am informed, you made daily
+visits to Polzeath, daily visits while Captain Coppinger was on the
+sea. Since his return, I am informed, these visits have been
+discontinued. Is it possible that instead of your visiting Mr. Oliver,
+Mr. Oliver is now visiting you--here, in this cottage?"
+
+A sudden slash across the back and shoulders made Mr. Scantlebray jump
+and bound aside. Coppinger had entered, and was armed with a stout
+walking-stick.
+
+"What brings you here?" he asked.
+
+"I came to pay my respects to the grass-widow," sneered Scantlebray,
+as he sidled to the door and bolted, but not till, with a face full of
+malignity, he had shaken his fist at Coppinger, behind his back.
+
+"What brings this man here?" asked the Captain.
+
+"Impertinence--nothing else," answered Judith.
+
+"What was that he said about Oliver Menaida?"
+
+"His insolence will not bear reporting."
+
+"You are right. He is a cur, and deserves to be kicked, not spoken to
+or spoken of. I heed him not. There is in him a grudge against me. He
+thought at one time that I would have taken his daughter--do you
+recall speaking to me once about the girl that you supposed was a fit
+mate for me! I laughed--I thought you had heard the chatter about
+Polly Scantlebray and me. A bold, fine girl, full of blood as a cherry
+is full of juice--one of the stock--but with better looks than the
+men, yet with the assurance, the effrontery of her father. A girl to
+laugh and talk with, not to take to one's heart. I care for Polly
+Scantlebray! Not I! That man has never forgiven me the disappointment
+because I did not take her. I never intended to. I despised her. Now
+you know all. Now you see why he hates me. I do not care. I am his
+match. But I will not have him insolent to you. What did he say?"
+
+It was a relief to Judith that Captain Coppinger had not heard the
+words that Mr. Scantlebray had used. They would have inflamed his
+jealousy, and fired him into fury against the speaker.
+
+"He told me that he had been passed, on his way hither, by Mr. Oliver
+Menaida, coming to the cliffs to inhale the sea air and look at the
+angry ocean."
+
+Captain Coppinger was satisfied, or pretended to be so. He went to the
+door and shut it, but not till he had gone outside and looked round to
+see, so Judith thought, whether Oliver Menaida were coming that way,
+quite as much as to satisfy himself that Mr. Scantlebray was not
+lurking round a corner listening.
+
+No! Oliver Menaida would not come there. Of that Judith was quite
+sure. He had the delicacy of mind and the good sense not to risk her
+reputation by approaching Othello Cottage. When he had made that offer
+to her she had known that his own heart spoke, but he had veiled its
+speech and had made the offer as from his father, and in such a way as
+not to offend her. Only when she had accused herself of attempted
+murder did he break through his reserve to show her his rooted
+confidence in her innocence, in spite of her confession.
+
+When the door was fast, Coppinger came over to Judith, and, standing
+at a little distance from her, said:
+
+"Judith, look at me."
+
+She raised her eyes to him. He was pale and his face lined, but he had
+recovered greatly since that day when she had seen him suffering from
+the effects of the poison.
+
+"Judith," said he, "I know all."
+
+"What do you know?"
+
+"You did not poison me."
+
+"I mixed and prepared the bowl for you."
+
+"Yes--but the poison had been put into the oatmeal before, not by you,
+not with your knowledge."
+
+She was silent. She was no adept at lying; she could not invent
+another falsehood to convince him of her guilt.
+
+"I know how it all came about," pursued Captain Coppinger. "The cook,
+Jane, has told me. Jamie came into the kitchen with a blue paper in
+his hand, asked for the oatmeal, and put in the contents of the paper
+so openly as not in the least to arouse suspicion. Not till I was
+taken ill and made inquiries did the woman connect his act with what
+followed. I have found the blue paper, and on it it is written, in Mr.
+Menaida's handwriting, which I know, 'Arsenic. Poison: for Jamie, only
+to be used for the dressing of bird-skins, and a limited amount to be
+served to him at a time.' Now I am satisfied, because I know your
+character, and because I saw innocence in your manner when you came
+down to me on the second occasion, and dashed the bowl from my lips--I
+saw then that you were innocent."
+
+Judith said nothing. Her eyes rested on the ground.
+
+"I had angered that fool of a boy, I had beaten him. In a fit of
+sullen revenge, and without calculating either how best to do it, or
+what the consequences would be, he went to the place where he knew the
+arsenic was--Mr. Menaida had impressed on him the danger of playing
+with the poison--and he abstracted it. But he had not the wit or
+cunning generally present in idiots----"
+
+"He is no idiot," said Judith.
+
+"No, in fools," said Coppinger, "to put the poison into the oatmeal
+secretly when no one was in the kitchen. He asked the cook for the
+meal and mingled the contents of the paper into it so openly as to
+disarm suspicion."
+
+He paused for Judith to speak, but she did not.
+
+He went on: "Then you, in utter guilelessness, prepared my breakfast
+for me, as instructed by Miss Trevisa. Next morning you did the same,
+but were either suspicious of evil through missing the paper from your
+cabinet, or drawer, or wherever you kept it, or else Jamie confessed
+to you what he had done. Thereupon you rushed to me to save me from
+taking another portion. I do not know that I would have taken it; I
+had formed a half-suspicion from the burning sensation in my throat,
+and from what I saw in the spoon--but there was no doubt in my mind
+after the first discovery that you were guiltless. I sought the whole
+matter out, as far as I was able. Jamie is guilty--not you."
+
+"And," said Judith, drawing a long breath, "what about Jamie?"
+
+"There are two alternatives," said Coppinger; "the boy is dangerous.
+Never again shall he come under my roof."
+
+"No," spoke Judith, "no, he must not go to the Glaze again. Let him
+remain here with me. I will take care of him that he does mischief to
+no one. He would never have hurt you had not you hurt him. Forgive
+him, because he was aggravated to it by the unjust and cruel treatment
+he received."
+
+"The boy is a mischievous idiot," said Coppinger; "he must not be
+allowed to be at large."
+
+"What, then, are your alternatives?"
+
+"In the first place, I propose to send him back to that establishment
+whence he should never have been released, to Scantlebray's Asylum."
+
+"No--no--no!" gasped Judith. "You do not know what that place is. I
+do. I got into it. I saw how Jamie had been treated."
+
+"He cannot be treated too severely. He is dangerous. You refuse this
+alternative?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, I do."
+
+"Very well. Then I put the matter in the hands of justice, and he is
+proceeded against and convicted as having attempted my life with
+poison. To jail he will go."
+
+It was as Judith had feared. There were but two destinations for
+Jamie, her dear, dear brother, the son of that blameless father--jail
+or an asylum.
+
+"Oh, no! no--no! not that!" cried Judith.
+
+"One or the other. I give you six hours to choose," said Coppinger.
+Then he went to the door, opened it, and stood looking seaward.
+Suddenly he started, "Ha! the Black Prince." He turned in the door and
+said to Judith: "One hour after sunset come to Pentyre Glaze. Come
+alone, and tell me your decision. I will wait for that."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+NOTHING LIKE GROG.
+
+
+The Black Prince had been observed by Oliver Menaida. He did not know
+for certain that the vessel he saw in the offing was the smuggler's
+ship, but he suspected it, as he knew that Coppinger was in daily
+expectation of her arrival. He brought his father to the cliffs, and
+the old man at once identified her.
+
+Oliver considered what was to be done.
+
+A feint was to be made at a point lower down the coast so as to
+attract the coast-guard in that direction; whereas, she was to run for
+Pentyre as soon as night fell, with all lights hidden, and to
+discharge her cargo in the little cove.
+
+Oliver knew pretty well who was confederate with Coppinger, or were in
+his employ. His father was able to furnish him with a good deal of
+information, not perhaps very well authenticated, all resting on
+gossip. He resolved to have a look at these men, and observe whether
+they were making preparations to assist Coppinger in clearing the
+Black Prince the moment she arrived off the cove. But he found that he
+had not far to look. They were drawn to the cliffs one after another
+to observe the distant vessel.
+
+Oliver now made his way to the coast-guard station, and to reach it
+went round by Wadebridge, and this he did because he wished to avoid
+being noticed going to the Preventive Station across the estuary at
+the Doom Bar above St. Enodoc. On reaching his destination he was
+shown into an ante-room, where he had to wait some minutes, because
+the captain happened to be engaged. He had plenty to occupy his mind.
+There was that mysterious confession of Judith that she had tried to
+poison the man who persisted in considering himself as her husband, in
+spite of her resistance, and who was holding her in a condition of
+bondage in his house. Oliver did not for a moment believe that she
+had intentionally sought his life. He had seen enough of her to gauge
+her character, and he knew that she was incapable of committing a
+crime. That she might have given poison in ignorance and by accident
+was possible; how this had happened it was in vain for him to attempt
+to conjecture; he could, however, quite believe that an innocent and
+sensitive conscience like that of Judith might feel the pangs of
+self-reproach when hurt had come to Coppinger through her negligence.
+
+Oliver could also believe that the smuggler captain attributed her act
+to an evil motive. He was not the man to believe in guilelessness, and
+when he found that he had been partly poisoned by the woman whom he
+daily tortured almost to madness, he would at once conclude that a
+premeditated attempt had been made on his life. What course would he
+pursue? Would he make this wretched business public and bring a
+criminal action against the unfortunate and unhappy girl who was
+linked to him against her will?
+
+Oliver saw that if he could obtain Coppinger's arrest on some such a
+charge as smuggling, he might prevent this scandal, and save Judith
+from much humiliation and misery. He was therefore most desirous to
+effect the capture of Coppinger at once and _flagrante delicto_.
+
+As he waited in the ante-room a harsh voice within was audible which
+he recognized as that of Mr. Scantlebray. Presently the door was half
+opened, and he heard the coast-guard captain say:
+
+"I trust you rewarded the fellow for his information. You may apply to
+me----"
+
+"O royally, royally."
+
+"And for furnishing you with the code of signals?"
+
+"Imperially--imperially."
+
+"That is well--never underpay in these matters."
+
+"Do not fear! I emptied my pockets. And as to the information you have
+received through me--rely on it as you would on the Bank of England."
+
+"You have been deceived and befooled," said Oliver, unable to resist
+the chance of delivering a slap at a man for whom he entertained a
+peculiar aversion, having heard much concerning him from his father.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"That the shilling you gave the clerk for his information, and the
+half-crown for his signal table were worth what you got--the
+information was false, and was intended to mislead."
+
+Scantlebray colored purple. "What do you know? You know nothing. You
+are in league with them."
+
+"Take care what you say," said Oliver.
+
+"I maintain," said Scantlebray, somewhat cowed by his demeanor, "that
+what I have said to the captain here is something of which you know
+nothing--and which is of importance to him to know."
+
+"And I maintain that you have been hoodwinked," answered Oliver. "But
+it matters not. The event will prove which of us is on the right
+track."
+
+"Yes," laughed Scantlebray, "so be it; and let me bet you, Captain,
+and you Mr. Oliver Menaida--that I am on the scent of something else.
+I believe I know where Coppinger keeps his stores, and--but you shall
+see, and Captain Cruel also, ha, ha!"
+
+Rubbing his hands he went out.
+
+Then Oliver begged a word with the Preventive captain, and told him
+what he had overheard, and also that he knew where was the cave in
+which the smugglers had their boat and to which they ran the cargo
+first, before removing it to their inland stores.
+
+"I'm not so certain the Black Prince dare venture nigh the coast
+to-night," said the Captain, "because of the sea and the on-shore
+wind. But the glass is rising and the wind may change. Then she'll
+risk it for certain. Now, look you here. I can't go with you myself
+to-night, because I must be here; and I can only let you have six
+men."
+
+"That will suffice."
+
+"Under Wyvill. I cannot, of course, put them under you, but Wyvill
+shall command. He bears a grudge against Coppinger, and will be
+rejoiced to have the chance of paying it out. But, mind you, it is
+possible that the Black Prince dare not run in, because of the
+weather, at Pentyre Cove, she may run somewhere else, either down the
+coast or higher up. Coppinger has other ovens than one. You know the
+term. His store-places are ovens. We can't find them, but we know that
+there are several of them along the coast, just as there are a score
+of landing-places. When one is watched, then another is used, and
+that is how we are thrown out. There are plenty of folk interested in
+defrauding the revenue in every parish between Hartland and Land's
+End, and let the Black Prince, or any other smuggling vessel appear
+where she will, there she has ready helpers to shore her cargo, and
+convey it to the ovens. When we appear it is signalled at once to the
+vessel, and she runs away up or down the coast, and discharges
+somewhere else, before we can reach the point. Now, I do not say that
+what you tell me is not true, and that it is not Coppinger's intent to
+land the goods in the Pentyre Cove, but if we are smelt, or if the
+wind or sea forbid a landing there, away goes the Black Prince and
+runs her cargo somewhere else. That is why I cannot accompany you, nor
+can I send you with more than half a dozen men. I must be on the look
+out, and I must be prepared in the event of her coming suddenly back
+and attempting to land her goods at Porth-leze, or Constantine, or
+Harlyn. What you shall do is--remain here with me till near dusk, and
+then you shall have a boat and my men and get round Pentyre, and you
+shall take possession of that cave. You shall take with you provisions
+for twenty-four hours. If the Black Prince intends to make that bay
+and discharge there, then she will wait her opportunity. If she cannot
+to-night, she will to-morrow night. Now, seize every man who comes
+into that cave, and don't let him out. You see?"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"Very well. Wyvill shall be in command, and you shall be the guide,
+and I will speak to him to pay proper attention to what you recommend.
+You see?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Very well--now we shall have something to eat and to drink, which is
+better, and drink that is worth the drinking, which is best of all.
+Here is some cognac, it was run goods that we captured and
+confiscated. Look at it. I wish there were artificial light and you
+would see, it is liquid amber--a liqueur. When you've tasted that,
+ah-ha! you will say, 'Glad I lived to this moment.' There is all the
+difference, my boy, between your best cognac and common brandy--the
+one, the condensed sunshine in the queen of fruit sublimed to an
+essence; the other, coarse, raw fire--all the difference that there is
+between a princess of blood royal and a gypsy wench. Drink and do not
+fear. This is not the stuff to smoke the head and clog the stomach."
+
+When Oliver Menaida finally started, he left the first officer of the
+coast-guard, in spite of his assurances, somewhat smoky in brain, and
+not in the condition to form the clearest estimate of what should be
+done in a contingency. The boat was laden with provisions for
+twenty-four hours, and placed under the command of Wyvill.
+
+The crew had not rowed far before one of them sang out:
+
+"Gearge!"
+
+"Aye, aye, mate!" responded Wyvill.
+
+"I say, Gearge. Be us a going round Pentyre?"
+
+"I reckon we be."
+
+"And wet to the marrowbone we shall be."
+
+"I reckon we shall."
+
+Then a pause in the conversation. Presently from another, "Gearge!"
+
+"Aye, aye, Will!"
+
+"I say Gearge! where be the spirits to? There's a keg o' water, but
+sure alive the spirits be forgotten."
+
+"Bless my body!" exclaimed Wyvill, "I reckon you're right. Here's a
+go."
+
+"It will never do for us to be twenty-four hours wi' salt water
+outside of us and fresh wi'in," said Will. "What's a hat wi'out a head
+in it, or boots wi'out feet in 'em, or a man wi'out spirits in his
+in'ard parts?"
+
+"Dear, alive! 'Tis a nuisance," said Wyvill. "Who's been the idiot to
+forget the spirits?"
+
+"Gearge!"
+
+"Aye, aye, Samson!"
+
+"I say, Gearge! hadn't us better run over to the Rock and get a little
+anker there?"
+
+"I reckon it wouldn't be amiss, mate," responded Wyvill. To Oliver's
+astonishment and annoyance, the boat was turned to run across to a
+little tavern, at what was called "The Rock."
+
+He remonstrated. This was injudicious and unnecessary.
+
+"Onnecessary," said Wyvill. "Why, you don't suppose fire-arms will go
+off wi'out a charge? It's the same wi' men. What's the good of a human
+being unless he be loaded--and what's his proper load but a drop o'
+spirits."
+
+Then one of the rowers sang out:
+
+    "Water-drinkers are dull asses
+      When they're met together.
+    Milk is meat for infancy;
+    Ladies like to sip Bohea;
+    Not such stuff for you and me,
+      When we're met together."
+
+Oliver was not surprised that so few captures were effected on the
+coast, when those set to watch it loved so dearly the very goods they
+were to watch against being imported untaxed.
+
+On reaching the shore, the man Samson and another were left in charge
+of the boat, while Wyvill, Will, and the rest went up to the Rock Inn
+to have a glass for the good of the house, and to lade themselves with
+an anker of brandy which, during their wait in the cave, was to be
+distributed among them. Oliver thought it well to go to the tavern as
+well. He was impatient and thought they would dawdle there, and,
+perhaps, take more than the nip to which they professed themselves
+content to limit themselves. Pentyre Point had to be rounded in rough
+water, and they must be primed to enable them to round Pentyre.
+
+"You see," said Wyvill, who seemed to suppose that some sort of an
+explanation of his conduct was due. "When ropes be dry they be
+terrible slack. Wet 'em and they are taut. It is the same wi' men's
+muscles. We've Pentyre Point to get round. Very strainin' to the arms,
+and I reckon it couldn't be done unless we wetted the muscles. That's
+reason. That's convincin'."
+
+At the Rock Tavern the Preventive men found the clerk of S. Enodoc,
+with his hands in his pockets, on the settle, his legs stretched out
+before him, considering one of his knees that was threadbare, and
+trying to make up his mind whether the trouser would hold out another
+day without a thread being run through the thin portion, and whether
+if a day, then perhaps two days, and if perchance for two days, then
+for three. But if for three, then why not for four! And if for four,
+then possibly for five--anyhow, as far as he could judge, there was no
+immediate call for him to have the right knee of his trouser repaired
+that day.
+
+The sexton-clerk looked up when the party entered, and greeted them
+each man by name, and a conversation ensued relative to the weather.
+Each described his own impressions as to what the weather had been,
+and his anticipations as to what it would be.
+
+"And how's your missus?"
+
+"Middlin'--and yours?"
+
+"Same, thanky'. A little troubled wi' the rheumatics."
+
+"Tell her to take a lump o' sugar wi' five drops o' turpentine."
+
+"I will, thanky"--and so on for half an hour, at the end of which time
+the party thought it time to rise, wipe their mouths, shoulder the
+anker, and return to the boat.
+
+No sooner were they in it, and had thrust off from shore, and prepared
+to make a second start, than Oliver touched Wyvill and said, pointing
+to the land, "Look yonder."
+
+"What!"
+
+"There is that clerk. Running, actually running."
+
+"I reckon he be."
+
+"And in the direction of Pentyre."
+
+"So he be, I reckon."
+
+"And what do you think of that?"
+
+"Nothing," answered Wyvill, confusedly. "Why should I? He can't say
+nothing about where we be going. Not a word of that was said while us
+was there. I don't put no store on his running."
+
+"I do," said Oliver, unable to smother his annoyance. "This folly will
+spoil our game."
+
+Wyvill muttered, "I reckon I'm head of the consarn and not you."
+
+Oliver deemed it advisable, as the words were said low, to pretend
+that he did not hear them.
+
+The wind had somewhat abated, but the sea was running furiously round
+Pentyre. Happily the tide was going out, so that tide and wind were
+conflicting, and this enabled the rowers to get round Pentyre between
+the Point and the Newland Isle, that broke the force of the seas. But
+when past the shelter of Newland, doubling a spur of Pentyre that ran
+to the north, the rowers had to use their utmost endeavors, and had
+not their muscles been moistened they might possibly have declared it
+impossible to proceed. It was advisable to run into the cove just
+after dark, and before the turn of the tide, as, in the event of the
+Black Prince attempting to land her cargo there, it would be made with
+the flow of the tide, and in the darkness.
+
+The cove was reached and found to be deserted. Oliver showed the way,
+and the boat was driven up on the shingle and conveyed into the
+smugglers' cave behind the rock curtain. No one was there. Evidently,
+from the preparations made, the smugglers were ready for the run of
+the cargo that night.
+
+"Now," said Will, one of the Preventive men, "us hev' a' labored
+uncommon. What say you, mates? Does us desarve a drop of refreshment
+or does us not? Every man as does his dooty by his country and his
+king should be paid for 't, is my doctrine. What do y' say, Gearge?
+Sarve out the grog?"
+
+"I reckon yes. Sarve out the grog. There's nothing like grog--I think
+it was Solomon said that, and he was the wisest of men."
+
+"For sure; he made a song about it," said one of the coast-guard. "It
+begins:
+
+    "'A plague of those musty old lubbers,
+      Who tell us to fast and to think.
+    And patient fall in with life's rubbers,
+      With nothing but water to drink.'"
+
+"To be sure," responded Wyvill, "never was a truer word said than when
+Solomon was called the wisest o' men."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+PLAYING FORFEITS.
+
+
+"Here am I once more," said Mr. Scantlebray, walking into Othello
+Cottage with a rap at the door but without waiting for an invitation
+to enter. "Come back like the golden summer, but at a quicker rate.
+How are you all? I left you rather curtly--without having had time to
+pay my proper _congé_."
+
+Judith and Jamie were sitting over the fire. No candle had been
+lighted, for, though a good many things had been brought over to
+Othello Cottage for their use, candles had been forgotten, and Judith
+did not desire to ask for more than was furnished her, certainly not
+to go to the Glaze for the things needed. They had a fire, but not one
+that blazed. It was of drift-wood, that smouldered and would not
+flame, and as it burned emitted a peculiar odor.
+
+Jamie was in good spirits, he chattered and laughed, and Judith made
+pretence that she listened, but her mind was absent, she had cares
+that had demands on every faculty of her mind. Moreover, now and then
+her thoughts drifted off to a picture that busy fancy painted and
+dangled before them--of Portugal, with its woods of oranges, golden
+among the burnished leaves, and its vines hung with purple
+grapes--with its glowing sun, its blue glittering sea--and, above all,
+she mused on the rest from fears, the cessation from troubles which
+would have ensued, had there been a chance for her to accept the offer
+made, and to have left the Cornish coast for ever.
+
+Looking into the glowing ashes, listening to her thoughts as they
+spoke, and seeming to attend to the prattle of the boy, Judith was
+surprised by the entry of Mr. Scantlebray.
+
+"There--disengaged, that is capital," said the agent. "The very thing
+I hoped. And now we can have a talk. You have never understood that I
+was your sincere friend. You have turned from me and looked elsewhere,
+and now you suffer for it. But I am like all the best metal--strong
+and bright to the last; and see--I have come to you now to forewarn
+you, because I thought that if it came on you all at once there would
+be trouble and bother."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Scantlebray. It is true that we are not busy just now,
+but it does not follow that we are disposed for a talk. It is growing
+dark, and we shall lock up the cottage and go to bed."
+
+"Oh, I will not detain you long. Besides I'll take the wish out of
+your heart for bed in one jiffy. Look here--read this. Do you know the
+handwriting?"
+
+He held out a letter. Judith reluctantly took it. She had risen; she
+had not asked Scantlebray to take a seat.
+
+"Yes," she said, "that is the writing of Captain Coppinger."
+
+"A good bold hand," said the agent, "and see here is his seal with his
+motto, _Thorough_. You know that?"
+
+"Yes--it is his seal."
+
+"Now read it."
+
+Judith knelt at the hearth.
+
+"Blow, blow the fire up, my beauty," called Scantlebray to Jamie.
+"Don't you see that your sister wants light, and is running the risk
+of blinding her sweet pretty eyes." Jamie puffed vigorously and sent
+out sparks snapping and blinking, and brought the wood to a white
+glow, by which Judith was able to decipher the letter.
+
+It was a formal order from Cruel Coppinger to Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray
+to remove James Trevisa that evening, after dark, from Othello Cottage
+to his idiot asylum, to remain there in custody till further notice.
+Judith remained kneeling, with her eyes on the letter, after she had
+read it. She was considering. It was clear to her that directly after
+leaving her Captain Coppinger had formed his own resolve, either
+impatient of waiting the six hours he had allowed her, or because he
+thought the alternative of the Asylum the only one that could be
+accepted by her, and it was one that would content himself, as the
+only one that avoided exposure of a scandal. But there were other
+asylums than that of Scantlebray, and others were presumably better
+managed, and those in charge less severe in their dealings. She had
+considered this, as she looked into the fire. But a new idea had also
+at the same time lightened in her mind, and she had a third
+alternative to propose.
+
+She had been waiting for the moment when to go to the Glaze and see
+Coppinger, and just at the moment when she was about to send Jamie to
+bed and leave the house Scantlebray came in.
+
+"Now then," said the agent, "what do you think of me--that I am a real
+friend?"
+
+"I thank you for having told me this," answered Judith, "and now I
+will go to Pentyre. I beg that you will not allow my brother to be
+conveyed away during my absence. Wait till I return. Perhaps Captain
+Coppinger may not insist on the removal at once. If you are a real
+friend, as you profess, you will do this for me."
+
+"I will do it willingly. That I am a real friend I have shown you by
+my conduct. I have come beforehand to break news to you which might
+have been too great and too overwhelming had it come on you suddenly.
+My brother and a man or two will be here in an hour. Go by all means
+to Captain Cruel, but," Scantlebray winked an eye, "I don't myself
+think you will prevail with him."
+
+"I will thank you to remain here for half an hour with Jamie," said
+Judith, coldly. "And to stay all proceedings till my return. If I
+succeed--well. If not, then only a few minutes have been lost. I have
+that to say to Captain Coppinger which may, and I trust will, lead him
+to withdraw that order."
+
+"Rely on me. I am a rock on which you may build," said Scantlebray. "I
+will do my best to entertain your brother, though, alas! I have not
+the abilities of Obadiah, who is a genius, and can keep folks hour by
+hour going from one roar of laughter into another."
+
+No sooner was Judith gone than Scantlebray put his tongue into one
+side of his cheek, clicked, pointed over his shoulder with his thumb,
+and seated himself opposite Jamie on the stool beside the fire which
+had been vacated by Judith. Jamie had understood nothing of the
+conversation that had taken place, his name had not been mentioned,
+and consequently his attention had not been drawn to it away from some
+chestnuts he had found, or which had been given to him, that he was
+baking in the ashes on the hearth.
+
+"Fond of hunting, eh?" asked Scantlebray, stretching his legs and
+rubbing his hands. "You are like me--like to be in at the death. What
+do you suppose I have in my pocket? Why, a fox with a fiery tail.
+Shall we run him to earth? Shall we make an end of him? Tally-ho!
+Tally-ho! here he is. Oh, sly Reynard, I have you by the ears." And
+forth from the tail-pocket of his coat Scantlebray produced a bottle
+of brandy. "What say you, corporal, shall we drink his blood? Bring me
+a couple of glasses and I'll pour out his gore."
+
+"I haven't any," said Jamie. "Ju and I have two mugs, that is all."
+
+"And they will do famously. Here goes--off with the mask!" and with a
+blow he knocked away the head and cork of the bottle. "No more running
+away for you, my beauty, except down our throats. Mugs! That is
+famous. Come, shall we play at army and navy, and the forfeit be a
+drink of Reynard's blood?"
+
+Jamie pricked up his ears; he was always ready for a game of play.
+
+"Look here," said Scantlebray. "You are in the military, I am in the
+nautical line. Each must address the other by some title in accordance
+with the profession each professes, and the forfeit of failure is a
+pull at the bottle. What do you say! I will begin. Set the bottle
+there between us. Now then, Sergeant, they tell me your aunt has come
+in for a fortune. How much? What is the figure, eh?"
+
+"I don't know," responded Jamie, and was at once caught up with
+"Forfeit! forfeit!"
+
+"Oh, by Jimminy, there am I, too, in the same box. Take your swig,
+Commander, and pass to me."
+
+"But what am I to call you?" asked the puzzle-headed boy.
+
+"Mate, or captain, or boatswain, or admiral."
+
+"I can't remember all that."
+
+"Mate will do. Always say mate, whatever you ask or answer. Do you
+understand, General!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Forfeit! forfeit! You should have said 'Yes, mate.'" Mr. Scantlebray
+put his hands to his sides and laughed. "Oh, Jimminy! there am I
+again. The instructor as bad as the pupil. I'm a bad fellow as
+instructor, that I am, Field-Marshal. So--your Aunt Dionysia has come
+in for some thousands of pounds--how many do you think! Have you
+heard?"
+
+"I think I've heard----"
+
+"Mate! Mate!"
+
+"I think I've heard, Mate."
+
+"Now, how many do you remember to have heard named? Was it five
+thousand? That is what I heard named--eh, Captain?"
+
+"Oh, more than that," said Jamie, in his small mind catching at a
+chance of talking-big, "a great lot more than that."
+
+"What, ten thousand?"
+
+"I dare say; yes, I think so."
+
+"Forfeit! forfeit! pull again, Centurion."
+
+"Yes, Mate, I'm sure."
+
+"Ten thousand--why, at five per cent. that's a nice little sum for you
+and Ju to look forward to when the old hull springs a leak and goes to
+the bottom."
+
+"Yes," answered Jamie, vaguely. He could not look beyond the day,
+moreover he did not understand the figurative speech of his comrade.
+
+"Forfeit again, General! But I'll forgive you this time, or you'll get
+so drunk you'll not be able to answer me a question. Bless my legs and
+arms! on that pretty little sum one could afford one's self a new tie
+every Sunday. You will prove a beau and buck indeed some day, Captain
+of Thousands! And then you won't live in this little hole. By the way,
+I hear old Dunes Trevisa, I beg pardon, Field-Marshal Sir James, I
+mean your much respected aunt, Miss Trevisa, has got a charming box
+down by S. Austell. You'll ask me down for the shooting, won't you,
+Commander-in-Chief?"
+
+"Yes, I will," answered Jamie.
+
+"And you'll give me the best bedroom, and will have choice dinners,
+and the best old tawny port, eh?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure," said the boy, flattered.
+
+"Mate! mate! forfeit! and I suppose you'll keep a hunter?"
+
+"I shall have two--three," said Jamie.
+
+"And if I were you, I'd keep a pack of fox-hounds."
+
+"I will."
+
+"That's for the winter, and other hounds for the summer."
+
+"I am sure I will, and wear a red coat."
+
+"Famous! but--there I spare you this time--you forfeited again."
+
+"No, I won't be spared," protested the boy.
+
+"As for a wretched little hole like this Othello Cottage----" said
+Scantlebray. "But, by the bye, you have never shown me over the house.
+How many rooms are there in it, Generalissimo of His Majesty's
+Forces!"
+
+"There's my bedroom there," said Jamie.
+
+"Yes; and that door leads to your sister's?"
+
+"Yes. And there's the kitchen."
+
+"And up-stairs!"
+
+"There's no up-stairs."
+
+"Now, you are very clever--clever. By Ginger, you must be to be
+Commander-in-chief; but 'pon my word, I can't believe that. No
+up-stairs. There must be up-stairs."
+
+"No, there's not."
+
+"But by Jimminy! with such a roof as this house has got, and a little
+round window in the gable. There must be an up-stairs."
+
+"No there's not."
+
+"How do you make that out?"
+
+"Because there are no stairs at all." Then Jamie jumped up, but rolled
+on one side, the brandy he had drunk had made him unsteady. "I'll show
+you mate--mate--yes, mate. There three times now will do for times I
+haven't said it. There--in my room. The floor is rolling; it won't
+stay steady. There are cramps in the wall, no stairs, and so you get
+up to where it all is."
+
+"All what is?"
+
+"Forfeit, forfeit!" shouted Jamie. "Say general or something military.
+I don't know. Ju won't let me go up there; but there's tobacco, for
+one thing."
+
+"Where's a candle, Corporal?"
+
+"There is none. We have no light but the fire." Then Jamie dropped
+back on his stool, unable to keep his legs.
+
+"I am more provident than you. I have a lantern outside, unlighted, as
+I thought I might need it on my return. The nights close in very fast
+and very dark now, eh, Commander?"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray went outside the cottage, looked about him, specially
+directing his eyes toward the Glaze. Then he chuckled and said:
+
+"Sent Miss Judith on a wild goose chase, have I? Ah ha! Captain
+Coppinger, I'll have a little entertainment for you to-night. The
+preventives will snatch your goods at Porth-leze or Constantine, and
+here--behind your back--I'll attend to your store of tobacco and
+whatever else I may find."
+
+Then he returned and going to the fire extracted the candle from the
+lantern and lighted it at a burning log.
+
+"Halloa, Captain of thousands! Going to sleep? There's the bottle. You
+must make up forfeits. You've been dishonest I fear and not paid half.
+That door did you say?"
+
+But Jamie was past understanding a question, and Mr. Scantlebray could
+find out for himself now what he wanted to know. That this house had
+been used by Coppinger as a store for some of the smuggled cargoes he
+had long suspected, but he had never been able to obtain any evidence
+which would justify the coast-guard in applying to the justices for a
+search-warrant. Now he would be able to look about it at his leisure,
+while Judith was absent. He did not suppose Coppinger was at the
+Glaze. He assumed that an attempt would be made, as the clerk of St.
+Enodoc had informed him, to land the cargo of the Black Prince to the
+west of the estuary of the Camel, and he supposed that Coppinger would
+be there to superintend. He had used the letter sent to his brother to
+induce the girl to go to Pentyre, and so leave the cottage clear for
+him to search it.
+
+Now, holding the candle, he entered the bedroom of Jamie, and soon
+perceived the cramps the boy had spoken of that served in place of
+stairs. Above was a door into the attic, whitewashed over, like the
+walls. Mr. Scantlebray climbed, thrust open the door and crept into
+the garret.
+
+"Ah, ha!" said the valuer. "So, so, Captain! I have come on one of
+your lairs at last. And I reckon I will make it warm for you. But, by
+Ginger, it is a pity I can't remove some of what is here."
+
+He prowled about in the roomy loft, searching every corner. There were
+a few small kegs of spirit, but the stores were mostly of tobacco.
+
+In about ten minutes Mr. Scantlebray reappeared in the room where was
+Jamie. He was without his candle. The poor boy, overcome by what he
+had drunk, had fallen on the floor and was in a tipsy sleep.
+
+Scantlebray went to him.
+
+"Come along with me," he said. "Come, there is no time to be lost.
+Come, you fool!"
+
+He shook him, but Jamie would not be roused, he kicked and struck out
+with his fists.
+
+"You won't come? I'll make you."
+
+Then Scantlebray caught the boy by the shoulders to drag him to the
+door. The child began to struggle and resist.
+
+"Oh! I'm not concerned for you, fool," said Scantlebray. "If you like
+to stay and take your chance--my brother will be here to carry you off
+presently. Will you come?"
+
+Scantlebray caught the boy by the feet and tried to drag him, but
+Jamie clung to the table-legs.
+
+Scantlebray uttered an oath--"Stay, you fool, and be smothered! The
+world will get on very well without you."
+
+And he strode forth from the cottage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+SURRENDER.
+
+
+Scantlebray was mistaken. Coppinger had not crossed the estuary of the
+Camel. He was at Pentyre Glaze awaiting the time when the tide suited
+for landing the cargo of the Black Prince. In the kitchen were a
+number of men having their supper and drinking, waiting also for the
+proper moment when to issue forth.
+
+At the turn of the tide the Black Prince would approach in the
+gathering darkness and would come as near in as she dare venture. The
+wind had fallen, but the sea was running, and with the tide setting in
+she would approach the cove.
+
+Judith hastened toward the Glaze. Darkness had set in, but in the
+north were auroral lights, first a great, white halo, then rays that
+shot up to the zenith, and then a mackerel sky of rosy light. The
+growl and mutter of the sea filled the air with threat like an angry
+multitude surging on with blood and destruction in their hearts.
+
+The flicker overhead gave Judith light for her cause; the snow had
+melted except in ditches and under hedges, and there it glared red or
+white in response to the changing, luminous tinges of the heavens.
+When she reached the house she at once entered the hall; there
+Coppinger was awaiting her. He knew she would come to him when her
+mind was made up on the alternatives he had offered her, and he
+believed he knew pretty surely which she would choose. It was because
+he expected her that he had not suffered the men collected for the
+work of the night to invade the hall.
+
+"You are here," he said. He was seated by the fire; he looked up, but
+did not rise. "Almost too late."
+
+"Almost, maybe, but not altogether," answered Judith. "And yet it
+seems unnecessary, as you have already acted without awaiting my
+decision."
+
+"What makes you say that?"
+
+"I have been shown your letter."
+
+"Oh! Obadiah Scantlebray is premature."
+
+"He is not at Othello Cottage yet. His brother came beforehand to
+prepare me."
+
+"How considerate of your feelings," sneered Captain Cruel. "I would
+not have expected that of Scantlebray."
+
+"You have not awaited my decision," said Judith.
+
+"That is true," answered Coppinger, carelessly. "I knew you would
+shrink from the exposure, the disgrace of publication of what has
+occurred here. I knew you so well that I could reckon beforehand on
+what you would elect."
+
+"But, why to Scantlebray? Are there not other asylums?"
+
+"Yes: so long as that boy is placed where he can do no mischief, I
+care not."
+
+"Then, if that be so, I have another proposal to make."
+
+"What is that?" Coppinger stood up.
+
+"If you have any regard for my feelings, any care for my happiness,
+you will grant my request."
+
+"Let me hear it."
+
+"Mr. Menaida is going to Portugal."
+
+"What!"--in a tone of concentrated rage--"Oliver?"
+
+"Oliver and his father. But the proposal concerns the father."
+
+"Go on." Coppinger strode once across the room, then back again. "Go
+on," he said, savagely.
+
+"Old Mr. Menaida offers to take Jamie with him. He intends to settle
+at Oporto, near his son, who has been appointed to a good situation
+there. He will gladly undertake the charge of Jamie. Let Jamie go with
+them. There he can do no harm."
+
+"What, go--without you! Did they not want you to go, also?"
+
+Judith hesitated and flushed. There was a single tallow candle on the
+table. Coppinger took it up, snuffed it, and held the flame to her
+face to study its expression. "I thought so," he said, and put down
+the light again.
+
+"Jamie is useful to Mr. Menaida," pleaded Judith, in some confusion,
+and with a voice of tremulous apology.
+
+"He stuffs birds so beautifully, and Uncle Zachie--I mean Mr.
+Menaida--has set his heart on making a collection of the Spanish and
+Portuguese birds."
+
+"Oh, yes; he understands the properties of arsenic," said Coppinger,
+with a scoff.
+
+Judith's eyes fell. Captain Cruel's tone was not reassuring.
+
+"You say that you care not where Jamie be, so long as he is where he
+cannot hurt you," said Judith.
+
+"I did not say that," answered Coppinger. "I said that he must be
+placed where he can injure no one."
+
+"He can injure no one if he is with Mr. Menaida, who will well watch
+him, and keep him employed."
+
+Coppinger laughed bitterly. "And you? Will you be satisfied to have
+the idolized brother with the deep seas rolling between you?"
+
+"I must endure it. It is the least of evils."
+
+"But you would be pining to have wings and fly over the sea to him."
+
+"If I have not wings I cannot go."
+
+"Now hearken," said Coppinger. He clinched his fist and laid it on the
+table. "I know very well what this means. Oliver Menaida is at the
+bottom of this. It is not the fool Jamie who is wanted in Portugal,
+but the clever Judith. They have offered to take the boy, that through
+him they may attract you, unless," his voice thrilled, "they have
+already dared to propose that you should go with them."
+
+Judith was silent.
+
+Coppinger clinched his second hand and laid that also on the table. "I
+swear to heaven," said he, "that if I and that Oliver Menaida meet
+again, it is for the last time for one or other of us. We have met
+twice already. It is an understood thing between us, when we meet
+again, one wets his boots in the other's blood. Do you hear? The world
+will not hold us two any longer. Portugal may be far off, but it is
+too near Cornwall for me."
+
+Judith made no answer. She looked fixedly into the gloomy eyes of
+Coppinger, and said--
+
+"You have strange thoughts. Suppose--if you will--that the invitation
+included me, I could not have accepted it."
+
+"Why not! You refuse to regard yourself as married, and if unmarried,
+you are free--and if free, ready to elope with----" he would not utter
+the name in his quivering fury.
+
+"I pray you," said Judith, offended, "do not insult me."
+
+"I--insult you? It is a daily insult to me to be treated as I have
+been. It is driving me mad."
+
+"But, do you not see," urged Judith, "you have offered me two
+alternatives and I ask for a third, yours are jail or an asylum, mine
+is exile. Both yours are to me intolerable. Conceive of my state were
+Jamie either in jail or with Mr. Scantlebray. In jail--and I should be
+thinking of him all day and all night in his prison garb, tramping the
+tread-mill, beaten, driven on, associated with the vilest of men, an
+indelible stain put, not on him only, but on the name of our dear,
+dear father. Do you think I could bear that? or take the other
+alternative? I know the Scantlebrays. I should have the thoughts of
+Jamie distressed, frightened, solitary, ill-treated, ever before me. I
+had it for a few hours once and it drove me frantic. It would make me
+mad in a week. I know that I could not endure it. Either alternative
+would madden or kill me. And I offer another--if he were in exile, I
+could at least think of him as happy among the orange groves, in the
+vineyards, among kind friends, happy, innocent--at worst, forgetting
+me. _That_ I could bear. But the other--no, not for a week--they would
+be torture insufferable." She spoke full of feverish vehemence, with
+her hands outspread before her.
+
+"And this smiling vision of Jamie happy in Portugal would draw your
+heart from me."
+
+"You never had my heart," said Judith.
+
+Coppinger clinched his teeth. "I will hear no more of this," said he.
+
+Then Judith threw herself on her knees, and caught him and held him,
+lifting her entreating face toward his.
+
+"I have undergone it--for some hours. I know it will madden or kill
+me. I cannot--I cannot--I cannot," she could scarce breathe, she spoke
+in gasps.
+
+"You cannot what?" he asked, sullenly.
+
+"I cannot live on the terms you offer. You take from me even the very
+wish to live. Take away the arsenic from me--lest in madness I give
+it to myself. Take me far inland from these cliffs--lest in my madness
+I throw myself over--I could not bear it. Will nothing move you?"
+
+"Nothing." He stood before her, his feet apart, his arms folded, his
+chin on his breast, looking into her uplifted, imploring face.
+"Yes--one thing. One thing only." He paused, raking her face with his
+eyes. "Yes--one thing. Be mine wholly--unconditionally. Then I will
+consent. Be mine; add your name where it is wanting. Resume your
+ring--and Jamie shall go with the Menaidas. Now, choose."
+
+He drew back. Judith remained kneeling, upright, on the floor with
+arms extended--she had heard and at first hardly comprehended him.
+Then she staggered to her feet.
+
+"Well," said Coppinger, "what answer do you make?" Still she could not
+speak. She went to the table with uncertain steps. There was a wooden
+form by it. She seated herself on this, placed her arms on the board,
+joining her hands, and laid her head, face downward, between them on
+the table.
+
+Coppinger remained where he was, watching and waiting. He knew what
+her action implied--that she was to be left alone with her thoughts,
+to form her resolve undisturbed. He remained, accordingly, motionless,
+but with his eyes fixed on the golden hair that flickered in the dim
+light of the one candle. The wick had a great fungus in it--so large
+and glaring that in another moment it must fall, and fall on Judith's
+hand. Coppinger saw this and he thrust forth his arm to snuff the
+candle with his fingers, but his hand shook, and the light was
+extinguished. It mattered not. There were glowing coals on the hearth,
+and through the window flared and throbbed the auroral lights.
+
+A step sounded outside. Then a hand was on the door. Coppinger at once
+strode across the hall, and arrested the intruder from entering.
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"Hender Pendarvis"--the clerk of St. Enodoc. "I have some'ut
+partickler I must say."
+
+Coppinger looked at Judith; she lay motionless, her head between her
+arms on the board. He partly opened the door and stepped forth into
+the porch.
+
+When he had heard what the clerk of St. Enodoc had to say, he
+answered with an order, "Round to the kitchen--bid the men arm and go
+by the beach."
+
+He returned into the hall, went to the fireplace and took down a pair
+of pistols, tried them that they were charged, and thrust them into
+his belt.
+
+Next he went up to Judith, and laid his hand on her shoulder.
+
+"Time presses," he said; "I have to be off. Your answer." She looked
+up. The board was studded with drops of water. She had not wept, these
+stains were not her tears, they were the sweat of anguish off her brow
+that had run over the board.
+
+"Well, Judith, our answer."
+
+"I accept."
+
+"Unreservedly?"
+
+"Unreservedly."
+
+"Stay," said he. He spoke low, indistinctly articulated sentences.
+"Let there be no holding back between us. You shall know all. You have
+wondered concerning the death of Wyvill--I know you have asked
+questions about it. I killed him."
+
+He paused.
+
+"You heard of the wreckers on that vessel cast on Doom Bar. I was
+their leader."
+
+Again he paused.
+
+"You thought I had sent Jamie out with a light to mislead the vessel.
+You thought right. I did have her drawn to her destruction, and by
+your brother."
+
+He paused again. He saw Judith's hand twitch: that was the only sign
+of emotion in her.
+
+"And Lady Knighton's jewels. I took them off her--it was I who tore
+her ear."
+
+Again a stillness. The sky outside shone in at the window, a lurid
+red. From the kitchen could be heard the voice of a man singing.
+
+"Now you know all," said Coppinger. "I would not have you take me
+finally, fully, unreservedly without knowing the truth. Give me your
+resolve."
+
+She slightly lifted her hands; she looked steadily into his face with
+a stony expression in hers.
+
+"What is it!"
+
+"I cannot help myself--unreservedly yours."
+
+Then he caught her to him, pressed her to his heart and kissed her
+wet face--wet as though she had plunged it into the sea.
+
+"To-morrow," said he, "to-morrow shall be our true wedding."
+
+And he dashed out of the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+TO JUDITH.
+
+
+In the smugglers' cave were Oliver Menaida and the party of Preventive
+men, not under his charge, but under that of Wyvill. This man, though
+zealous in the execution of his duty, and not averse, should the
+opportunity offer, of paying off a debt in full with a bullet, instead
+of committing his adversary to the more lenient hands of the law,
+shared in that failing, if it were a failing, of being unable to do
+anything without being primed with spirits, a failing that was common
+at that period, to coast-guards and smugglers alike. The latter had to
+be primed in order to run a cargo, and the former must be in like
+condition to catch them at it. It was thought, not unjustly, that the
+magistrates before whom, if caught, the smugglers were brought, needed
+priming in order to ripen their intellects for pronouncing judgment.
+But it was not often that a capture was effected. When it was, priming
+was allowed for the due solemnization of the fact by the captors;
+failure always entitled them to priming in order to sustain their
+disappointment with fortitude. Wyvill had lost a brother in the cause,
+and his feelings often overcame him when he considered his loss, and
+their poignancy had to be slaked with the usual priming. It served, as
+its advocates alleged, as a great stimulant to courage; but it served
+also, as its deprecators asserted, as a solvent to discipline.
+
+Now that the party were in possession of the den of their adversaries,
+such a success needed, in their eyes, commemoration. They were likely,
+speedily, to have a tussle with the smugglers, and to prepare
+themselves for that required the priming of their nerves and sinews.
+They had had a sharp struggle with the sea in rounding Pentyre Point,
+and their unstrung muscles and joints demanded screwing up again by
+the same means.
+
+The Black Prince had been discerned through the falling darkness
+drawing shoreward with the rising tide; but it was certain that for
+another hour or two the men would have to wait before she dropped
+anchor, and those ashore came down to the unloading.
+
+A lantern was lighted, and the cave was explored. Certainly
+Coppinger's men from the land would arrive before the boats from the
+Black Prince, and it was determined to at once arrest them, and then
+await the contingent in the boats, and fall on them as they landed.
+The party was small, it consisted of but seven men, and it was
+advisable to deal with the smugglers piecemeal.
+
+The men, having leisure, brought out their food, and tapped the keg
+they had procured at the Rock. It was satisfactory to them that the
+Black Prince was apparently bent on discharging the cargo that night
+and in that place, thus they would not have to wait in the cave
+twenty-four hours, and not, after all, be disappointed.
+
+"All your pistols charged?" asked Wyvill.
+
+"Aye, aye, sir."
+
+"Then take your suppers while you may. We shall have hot work
+presently. Should a step be heard below, throw a bit o' sailcloth over
+the lantern, Samson."
+
+Oliver was neither hungry nor thirsty. He had both eaten and drunk
+sufficient when at the station. He therefore left the men to make
+their collation, prime their spirits, pluck up their courage, screw up
+their nerves, polish their wits, all with the same instrument, and
+descended the slope of shingle, stooped under the brow of rock that
+divided the lower from the upper cave, and made his way to the
+entrance, and thence out over the sands of the cove. He knew that the
+shore could be reached only by the donkey-path, or by the dangerous
+track down the chimney--a track he had not discovered till he had made
+a third exploration of the cave. Down this tortuous and perilous
+descent he was convinced the smugglers would not come. It was, he saw,
+but rarely used, and designed as a way of escape only on an emergency.
+A too-frequent employment of this path would have led to a treading of
+the turf on the cliff above, and to a marking of the line of descent,
+that would have attracted the attention of the curious, and revealed
+to the explorer the place of retreat.
+
+Oliver, therefore, went forward toward the point where the donkey-path
+reached the sands, deeming it advisable that a watch should be kept
+on this point, so that his party might be forewarned in time of the
+approach of the smugglers.
+
+There was much light in the sky, a fantastic, mysterious glow, as
+though some great conflagration were taking place and the clouds over
+head reflected its flicker.
+
+There passed throbs of shadow from side to side, and as Oliver looked
+he could almost believe that the light he saw proceeded from a great
+bonfire, such as was kindled on the Cornish Moors on Midsummer's Eve,
+and that the shadows were produced by men and women dancing round the
+flames and momentarily intercepting the light.
+
+Then ensued a change. The rose hue vanished suddenly, and in its place
+shot up three broad ribbons of silver light; and so bright and clear
+was the light that the edge of the cliff against it was cut as sharp
+as a black silhouette on white paper, and he could see every bush of
+gorse there, and a sheep--a solitary sheep.
+
+Suddenly he was startled by seeing a man before him, coming over the
+sand.
+
+"Who goes there?"
+
+"What--Oliver! I have found you!" the answer was in his father's
+voice. "Oh, well, I got fidgeted, and I thought I would come and see
+if you had arrived."
+
+"For heaven's sake, you have told no one of our plans?"
+
+"I--bless you, boy--not I. You know you told me yourself, before going
+to the station, what you intended, and I was troubled and anxious, and
+I came to see how things were turning out. The Black Prince is coming
+in; she will anchor shortly. She can't come beyond the point yonder. I
+was sure you would be here. How many have you brought with you?"
+
+"But six."
+
+"Too few. However, now I am with you, that makes eight."
+
+"I wish you had not come, father."
+
+"My boy, I did not come only on your account. I have my poor little Ju
+so near my heart that I long to put out if only a finger to liberate
+her from that ruffian, whom by the way I have challenged."
+
+"Yes--but I have stepped in as your substitute. I shall, I trust, try
+conclusions with Coppinger to-night. Come with me to the cave I told
+you of. We will send a man to keep guard at the foot of the donkey
+path."
+
+Oliver led the way; the sands reflected the illumination of the sky,
+and the foam that swept up the beach had a rosy tinge. The waves
+hissed as they rushed up the shore, as though impatient at men
+speaking and not listening to the voice of the ocean, that should
+subdue all human tongues, and command mute attention. And yet that
+roar is inarticulate, it is like the foaming fury of the dumb, that
+strives with noise and gesticulation to explain the thoughts that are
+working within.
+
+In the cave it was dark, and Oliver lighted a piece of touchwood as a
+means of observing the shelving ground, and taking his direction, till
+he passed under the brow of rock and entered the upper cavern.
+
+After a short scramble, the dim yellow glow of light from this inner
+recess was visible, when Oliver extinguished his touchwood and pushed
+on, guided by this light.
+
+On entering the upper cave he was surprised to find the guards lying
+about asleep, and snoring. He went at once to Wyvill, seized him by
+the arm and shook him, but none of his efforts could rouse him. He lay
+as a log, or as one stunned.
+
+"Father! help me with the others," said Oliver in great concern.
+
+Mr. Menaida went from one to the other, spoke to each, shook him, held
+the lantern to his eyes; he raised their heads; when he let go his
+hold, they fell back.
+
+"What is the meaning of this?" asked Oliver.
+
+"Humph!" said old Menaida, "I'll tell you what this means. There is a
+rogue among them, and their drink has been drugged with deadly
+night-shade. You might be sure of this--that among six coast-guards
+one would be in the pay of Coppinger. Which is it? Whoever it is, he
+is pretending to be as dead drunk and stupefied as the others, and
+which is the man, Noll?"
+
+"I cannot tell. This keg of brandy was got at the Rock Inn."
+
+"It was got there and there drugged, but by one of this company. Who
+is it?"
+
+"Yes," said Oliver, waxing wrathful, "and what is more, notice was
+sent to Coppinger to be on his guard. I saw the sexton going in the
+direction of Pentyre."
+
+"That man is a rascal."
+
+"And now we shall not encounter Coppinger. He will be warned and not
+come."
+
+"Trust him to come. He has heard of this. He will come and murder them
+all as he did Wyvill."
+
+Oliver felt as though a frost had fallen on him.
+
+"Hah!" said old Menaida. "Never trust anyone in this neighborhood; you
+cannot tell who is not in the pay or under the control of Coppinger,
+from the magistrate on the bench to the huckster who goes round the
+country. Among these six men, one is a spy and a traitor. Which it is
+we cannot tell. There is nothing else to be done but to bind them all,
+hand and foot. There is plenty of cord here."
+
+"Plenty. But surely not Wyvill."
+
+"Wyvill and all. How can you say that he is not the man who has done
+it? Many a fellow has carried his brother in his pocket. What if he
+has been bought?"
+
+Old Menaida was right. He had not lived so many years in the midst of
+smugglers without having learned something of their ways. His advice
+must be taken, for the danger was imminent. If, as he supposed, full
+information had been sent to Captain Cruel, then he and his men would
+be upon them shortly.
+
+Oliver hastily brought together all the cord of a suitable thickness
+he could find, and the old father raised and held each Preventive man,
+while Oliver firmly bound him hand and foot. As he did not know which
+was shamming sleep, he must bind all. Of the six, five were wholly
+unconscious what was being done to them, and the sixth thought it
+advisable to pretend to be as the rest, for he was quite aware that
+neither Oliver nor his father would scruple to silence him effectually
+did he show signs of animation.
+
+When all were made fast, old Mr. Menaida said:
+
+"Now, Noll, my boy, are you armed?"
+
+"No, father. When I went from home I expected to return. I did not
+know I should want weapons. But these fellows have their pistols and
+cutlasses."
+
+"Try the pistols. There, take that of the man Wyvill. Are you sure
+they are loaded?"
+
+"I know they are."
+
+"Well, try."
+
+Oliver took Wyvill's pistol, and put in the ramrod.
+
+"Oh yes, it is loaded."
+
+"Make sure. Draw the loading. You don't know what it is to have to do
+with Coppinger."
+
+Oliver drew the charge, and then, as is usual, when the powder has
+been removed, blew down the barrel. Then he observed that there was a
+choke somewhere. He took the pistol to the lantern, opened the side of
+the lantern and examined it. The touch-hole was plugged with wax.
+
+"Humph!" said Mr. Menaida. "The man who drugged the liquor waxed the
+touch-holes of the pistols. Try the rest."
+
+Oliver did not now trouble himself to draw the charges; he cocked each
+man's pistol and drew the trigger. Not one would discharge. All had
+been treated in like manner.
+
+Oliver thought for a moment what was to be done. He dared not leave
+the sleeping men unprotected, and he and his father alone were
+insufficient to defend them.
+
+"Father," said he, "there is but one thing that can be done now: you
+must go at once, fly to the nearest farmhouses and collect men, and,
+if possible, hold the donkey path before Coppinger and his men arrive.
+If you are too late, pursue them. I will choke the narrow entrance,
+and will light a fire. Perhaps they may be afraid when they see a
+blaze here, and may hold off. Anyhow, I can defend this place for a
+while. But I don't expect that they will attack it."
+
+Mr. Menaida at once saw that his son's judgment was right, and he
+hurried out of the cave, Oliver holding the light to assist him to
+descend, and then he made his way over the sands to the path, and up
+that to the downs.
+
+No sooner was he gone than Oliver collected what wood and straw were
+there, sailcloth, oilcloth, everything that was combustible, and piled
+them up into a heap, then applied the candle to them, and produced a
+flame. The wood was damp and did not burn freely, but he was able to
+awake a good fire that filled the cavern with light. He trusted that
+when the smugglers saw that their den was in the possession of the
+enemy they would not risk the attempt to enter and recover it. They
+might not, they probably did not, know to what condition the holders
+of the cave were reduced.
+
+The light of the fire roused countless bats that had made the roof of
+the cave their resting-place, and they flew wildly to and fro with
+whirr of wings and shrill screams.
+
+Oliver set to work with all haste to heap stones so as to choke the
+entrance from the lower cave, by which he anticipated that the
+smugglers would enter, should they resolve on so desperate a course.
+But owing to the rapid inclination, the pebbles yielded, and what he
+piled up rolled down. He then, with great effort, got the boat thrust
+down to the opening, and by main force drew it partly across. It was
+not possible for him completely to block the entrance, but by planting
+the boat athwart it, he could prevent several men from entering at
+once, and whoever did enter must scramble over the bulwarks of the
+boat.
+
+All this took some time, and he was thus engaged, when his attention
+was suddenly arrested by the click of a pistol brought to the cock. He
+looked hastily about him, and saw Coppinger, who, unobserved, had
+descended by the chimney, and now by the light of the fire was taking
+deliberate aim at him. Oliver drew back behind a rock.
+
+"You coward!" shouted Captain Cruel. "Come out and be shot."
+
+"I am no coward," answered Oliver. "Let us meet with equal arms. I
+have a cutlass." He had taken one from the side of a sleep-drunk
+coast-guard.
+
+"I prefer to shoot you down as a dog," said Coppinger.
+
+Then holding his pistol levelled in the direction of Oliver, he
+approached the sleeping men. Oliver saw at once his object: he would
+liberate the confederate. He stepped out from behind the rock, and
+immediately the pistol was discharged. A bat fell at the feet of
+Oliver. Had not that bat at the moment whizzed past his head and
+received the ball in its soft and yielding body, the young man would
+have fallen shot through his head.
+
+Coppinger uttered a curse, and put his hand to his belt and drew forth
+his second pistol. But Oliver sprang forward, and with a sweep of his
+cutlass caught him on the wrist with the blade as he was about to
+touch the trigger. The pistol fell from his hand, and a rush of blood
+overflowed the back of the hand.
+
+Coppinger remained for one minute motionless. So did Oliver, who did
+not again raise his cutlass.
+
+But at that moment a harsh voice was heard crying, "There he is, my
+men, at him; beat his brains out. A guinea for the first man who
+knocks him over," and from the further side of the boat, illumined by
+the glare from the fire, were seen the faces of Mr. Scantlebray, his
+brother, and several men, who began to scramble over the obstruction.
+
+Then, and then only in his life, did Coppinger's heart fail him. His
+right hand was powerless; the sharp blade had severed the tendons, and
+blood was flowing from his wrist in streams. One pistol was
+discharged, the other had fallen. In a minute he would be in the hands
+of his deadly enemies.
+
+He turned and fled. The light from the fire, the illumined smoke, rose
+through the chimney, and by that he could run up the familiar track,
+reach the platform in the face of the cliff, thence make his way by
+the path up which he had formerly borne Judith. He did not hesitate,
+he fled, and Oliver, also without hesitation, pursued him. As he went
+up the narrow track, his feet trod in and were stained with the blood
+that had fallen from Coppinger's wounded arm, but he did not notice
+it--he was unaware of it till the morrow.
+
+Coppinger reached the summit of the cliffs. His feet were on the down.
+He ran at once in the direction of Othello Cottage. His only chance of
+safety lay there. There he could hide in the attic, and Judith would
+never betray him. In his desperate condition, wounded, his blood
+flowing from him in streams, hunted by his foes, that one thought was
+in him--Judith--he must go to Judith. She would never betray him, she
+would be hacked to death rather than give him up. To Judith as his
+last refuge!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+IN THE SMOKE.
+
+
+Judith left Pentyre Glaze when she had somewhat recovered herself
+after the interview with Coppinger and her surrender. She had fought a
+brave battle, but had been defeated and must lay down her arms.
+Resistance was no longer possible if Jamie was to be saved from a
+miserable fate. Now by the sacrifice of herself she had assured to,
+him a future of calm and innocent happiness. She knew that with Uncle
+Zachie and Oliver he would be cared for, kindly treated, and employed.
+Uncle Zachie himself was not to be trusted; whatever he might promise,
+his good nature was greater than his judgment. But she had confidence
+in Oliver, who would prove a check on the over-indulgence which his
+father would allow. But Jamie would forget her. His light and
+unretentive mind was not one to harbor deep feeling. He would forget
+her when on board ship in his pleasure at running about the vessel
+chattering with the sailors, and would only think of her if he wanted
+aught or was ill. Rapidly the recollection of her, love for her, would
+die out of his mind and heart; and as it died out of his, her thought
+and love for him would deepen and become more fixed, for she would
+have no one, nothing in the world to think of and love save her
+twin-brother.
+
+She walked on in the dark winter night, lighted only by the auroral
+glow overhead, and was conscious of a smell of tobacco-smoke that so
+persistently seemed to follow her that she was forced to notice it.
+She became uneasy, thinking that someone was walking behind the hedge
+with a pipe, watching her, perhaps waiting to spring out upon her when
+distant from the house, where her cries for help might not be heard.
+
+She stood still. The smell was strong. She climbed the hedge on one
+side and looked over; as far as she could discern in the red glimmer
+from the flushed sky there was no one there. She listened, she could
+hear no step. She walked hastily on to a gate in the hedge on the
+opposite side and went through that. The smell of burning tobacco was
+as strong there. Judith turned in the lane and walked back in the
+direction of the house. The smell pursued her. It was strange. Could
+she carry the odor in her clothes? She turned again and resumed her
+walk toward Othello Cottage. Now she was distinctly aware that the
+scent came to her on the wind. Her perplexity on this subject served
+as a diversion of her mind from her own troubles.
+
+She emerged upon the downs, and made her way across them toward the
+cottage that lay in a dip, not to be observed except by one close to
+it. The wind when it brushed up from the sea was odorless.
+
+Presently she came in sight of Othello Cottage, and in spite of the
+darkness could see that a strange, dense, white fog surrounded it,
+especially the roof, which seemed to be wearing a white wig. In a
+moment she understood what this signified. Othello Cottage was on
+fire, and the stores of tobacco in the attic were burning. Judith ran.
+Her own troubles were forgotten in her alarm for Jamie. No fire as yet
+had broken through the roof.
+
+She reached the door, which was open. Mr. Scantlebray in leaving had
+not shut the door, so as to allow the boy to crawl out should he
+recover sufficient intelligence to see that he was in danger.
+
+It is probable that Scantlebray, senior, would have made further
+efforts to save Jamie, but that he believed he would meet with his
+brother, and two or three men he was bringing with him, near the
+house, and then it would be easy unitedly to drag the boy forth. He
+did, indeed, meet with Obadiah, but also at the same time with Uncle
+Zachie Menaida and a small party of farm-laborers, and when he heard
+that Mr. Menaida desired help to secure Coppinger and the smugglers,
+he thought no more of the boy and joined heartily in the attempt to
+rescue the Preventive men and take Coppinger.
+
+Through the open door dashed Judith, crying out to Jamie whom she
+could not see. There was a dense, white cloud in the room, let down
+from above, and curling out at the top of the door, whence it issued
+as steam from a boiler. It was impossible to breathe in this fog of
+tobacco-smoke, and Judith knew that if she allowed it to surround her
+she would be stupefied. She therefore stooped and entered, calling
+Jamie. Although the thick mattress of white smoke had not as yet
+descended to the floor, and had left comparatively clear air beneath
+it--the in-draught from the door--yet the odor of the burning tobacco
+impregnated the atmosphere. Here and there curls of smoke descended,
+dropped capriciously from the bed of vapor above, and wantonly played
+about.
+
+Judith saw her brother lying at full length near the fire. Scantlebray
+had drawn him partly to the door, but he had rolled back to his former
+position near the hearth, perhaps from feeling the cold wind that blew
+in on him.
+
+There was no time to be lost. Judith knew that flame must burst forth
+directly--directly the burning tobacco had charred through the rafters
+and flooring of the attic and allowed the fresh air from below to rush
+in and, acting as a bellows, blow the whole mass of glowing tobacco
+into flame. It was obvious that the fire had originated above in the
+attic. There was nothing burning in the room, and the smoke drove
+downward in strips through the joints of the boards overhead.
+
+"Jamie, come, come with me!" She shook the boy, she knelt by him and
+raised him on her knee. He was stupefied with cognac, and with the
+fumes of the burning tobacco he had inhaled.
+
+She must drag him forth. He was no longer half-conscious as he had
+been when Mr. Scantlebray made the same attempt; the power to resist
+was now gone from him.
+
+Judith was delicately made, and was not strong, but she put her arms
+under the shoulders of Jamie and herself on her knees and dragged him
+along the floor. He was as heavy as a corpse. She drew him a little
+way and desisted, overcome, panting, giddy, faint. But time must not
+be lost. Every moment was precious. Judith knew that overhead in the
+loft was something that would not smoulder and glow, but burst into
+furious flame--spirits. Not, indeed, many kegs, but there were some.
+When this became ignited their escape would be impossible. She drew
+Jamie further up; she was behind him. She thrust him forward as she
+moved on upon her knees, driving him a step further at every advance.
+It was slow and laborious work. She could not maintain this effort
+for long and fell forward on her hands, and he fell also at the same
+time on the floor.
+
+Then she heard a sound, a roar, an angry growl. The shock of the fall,
+and striking his head against the slate pavement, roused Jamie
+momentarily and he also heard the noise.
+
+"Ju! the roar of the sea!"
+
+"A sea of fire, Jamie! Oh, do push to the door."
+
+He raised himself on his hands, looked vacantly round, and fell again
+into stupid unconsciousness. Now still on her knees, but with a brain
+becoming bewildered with the fumes, she crept to his head, placed
+herself between him and the door, and holding his shoulders, dragged
+him toward her, she moving backward.
+
+Even thus she could make but little way with him; his boot-tops caught
+in the edge of a slate slab ill fitted in the floor and held him, so
+that she could not pull him to her with the additional resistance thus
+caused. Then an idea struck her. Staggering to her feet, holding her
+breath, she plunged in the direction of the window, beat it open, and
+panted in the inrush of pure air. With this new current wafted in
+behind her she returned amid the smoke, and for a moment it dissipated
+the density of the cloud about her. The window had faced the wind, and
+the rush of air through it was more strong than that which entered by
+the door. And yet this expedient did not answer as she had expected,
+for the column of strong, cold air pouring in from a higher level
+threw the cloud into confusion, stirred it up as it were, and lessened
+the space of uninvaded atmosphere below the descending bed of vapor.
+
+Again she went to Jamie. The roar overhead had increased, some vent
+had been found, and the attic was in full flagrance. Now, drawing a
+long breath at the door, near the level of the ground, she returned to
+her brother and disengaged his foot from the slate, then dragged, then
+thrust, sometimes at his head, sometimes at his side; then again she
+had her arms round him, and swung herself forward to the right knee
+sideways; then brought up the other knee, and swung herself with the
+dead weight in her arms again to the right, and thus was able to work
+her way nearer to the door, and, as she got nearer to the door, the
+air was clearer, and she was able to breathe freer.
+
+At length she laid hold of the jamb with one hand, and with the other
+she caught the lappel of the boy's coat, and assisted by the support
+she had gained, was able to drag him over the doorstep.
+
+At that moment passed her rushed a man. She looked, saw and knew
+Coppinger. As he rushed passed, the blood squirting from his maimed
+right hand fell on the girl lying prostrate at the jamb to which she
+had clung.
+
+And now within a red light appeared, glowing through the mist as a
+fiery eye, not only so, but every now and then a fiery rain descended.
+The burning tobacco had consumed the boards and was falling through in
+red masses.
+
+Judith had but just brought her brother into safety, or comparative
+safety, and now another, Coppinger, had plunged into the burning
+cottage, rushed to almost certain death. She cried to him as well as
+she could with her short breath. She could not leave him within. Why
+had he run there? She saw on her dress the blood that had fallen from
+him. She went outside the hut and dragged Jamie forth and laid him on
+the grass. Then, without hesitation, inhaling all the pure air she
+could, she darted once more into the burning cottage. Her eyes were
+stung with the smoke, but she pushed on, and found Coppinger under the
+open window, fallen on the floor, his back and head against the wall,
+his arms at his side, and the blood streaming over the slate pavement
+from his right gashed wrist. Accident or instinct--it could not have
+been judgment--had carried him to the only spot in the room where pure
+air was to be found, and there it descended like a rushing waterfall,
+blowing about the prostrate man's wild long hair.
+
+"Judith!" said he, looking at her, and he raised his left hand.
+"Judith, this is the end."
+
+"Oh, Captain Coppinger, do come out. The house is burning. Quick, or
+it will be too late."
+
+"It is too late for me," he said. "I am wounded." He held up his
+half-severed hand. "I gave this to you and you rejected it."
+
+"Come--oh, do come--or you and I will be burnt." In the inrushing
+sweep of air both were clear of the smoke and could breathe.
+
+He shook his head. "I am followed. I will not be taken. I am no good
+now--without my right hand. I will not go to jail."
+
+She caught his arm, and tearing the kerchief from her neck, bound it
+round and round where the veins were severed.
+
+"It is in vain," he said. "I have lost most of my blood. Ju!"--he held
+her with his left hand--"Ju, if you live, swear to me, swear you will
+sign the register."
+
+She was looking into his face--it was ghastly, partly through loss of
+blood, partly because lighted by the glare of the burning tobacco that
+dropped from above. Then a sense of vast pity came surging over her
+along with the thought of how he had loved her. Into her burning eyes
+tears came.
+
+"Judith!" he said, "I made my confession to you--I told you my sins.
+Give me also my release. Say you forgive me."
+
+She had forgotten her peril, forgotten about the fire that was above
+and around, as she looked at his eyes, and, holding the maimed right
+arm, felt the hot blood welling through her kerchief and running over
+her hand.
+
+"I pray you, oh, I pray you, come outside. There is still time."
+
+Again he shook his head. "My time is up. I do not want to live. I have
+not your love. I could never win it, and if I went outside I should be
+captured and sent to prison. Will you give me my absolution?"
+
+"What do you mean?" And in her trembling concern for him--in the
+intensity of her pity, sorrow, care for him--she drew his wounded hand
+to her and pressed it against her heaving bosom.
+
+"What I mean is, can you forgive me?"
+
+"Indeed--indeed I do."
+
+"What--all I have done?"
+
+"All."
+
+She saw only a dying man before her, a man who might be saved if he
+would, but would not because her love was everything to him, and
+_that_ he never, never could gain. Would she make no concession to
+him? could she not draw a few steps nearer? As she looked into his
+face and held his bleeding arm to her bosom, pity overpowered
+her--pity, when she saw how strong had been this wild and wicked
+man's love. Now she truly realized its depth, its intensity, and its
+tenderness alternating with stormy blasts of passion, as he wavered
+between hope and fear, and the despair that was his when he knew he
+must lose her.
+
+Then she stooped, and, the tears streaming over her face, she kissed
+him on his brow, and then on his lips, and then drew back, still
+holding his maimed hand, with both of hers crossed over it, to her
+heaving bosom. Kneeling, she had her eyes on his, and his were on
+hers--steady, searching, but with a gentle light in them. And as she
+thus looked she became unconscious, and sank, still holding his hand,
+on the floor.
+
+At that instant, through the smoke and raining masses of burning
+tobacco, plunged Oliver Menaida. He saw Judith, bent, caught her in
+his arms, and rushed back through the door.
+
+A moment after and he was at the entrance again, to plunge through and
+rescue his wounded adversary; but the moment when this could be done
+was past. There was an explosion above, followed by a fall as of a
+sheet of blue light, a curtain of fire through the mist of white
+smoke. No living man could pass that. Oliver went round to the window,
+and strove to enter by that way; the man who had taken refuge there
+was still in the same position, but he had torn the kerchief of Judith
+from the bleeding arm, and he held it to his mouth, looking with fixed
+eyes into the falling red and blue fires and the swirling flocks of
+white smoke.
+
+There were iron bars at the window. Oliver tore at these to displace
+them.
+
+"Coppinger!" he shouted, "stand up--help me to break these bars!"
+
+But Coppinger would not move, or, possibly, the power was gone from
+him. The bars were firmly set. They had been placed in the windows by
+Coppinger's orders and under his own supervision, to secure Othello
+Cottage, his store-place, against invasion by the inquisitive.
+
+At length Oliver succeeded in wrenching one bar away, and now a gap
+was made through which he might reach Coppinger and draw him forth
+through the window. He was scrambling in when the Captain staggered to
+his feet.
+
+"Let me alone," said he. "You have won what I have lost. Let me
+alone. I am defeated."
+
+Then he stepped into the mass of smoke and falling liquid blue fire
+and dropping masses of red glowing tobacco. A moment more, and the
+whole of the attic floor, with all the burning contents of the garret,
+fell in.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+SQUAB PIE.
+
+
+Next morning, at an early hour, Judith, attended by Mr. Zachary
+Menaida, appeared at the rectory of St. Enodoc. She was deadly pale,
+but there was decision in her face. She asked to see Mr. Desiderius
+Mules in his study, and was shown into what had, in her father's days,
+been the pantry.
+
+Mr. Menaida had a puzzled look in his watery eyes. He had been up all
+night, and indeed it had been a night in which few in the neighborhood
+had slept, excepting Mr. Mules, who knew nothing of what had happened.
+The smugglers, alarmed by the fire at Othello Cottage, and by the
+party collected by Mr. Menaida to guard the descent to the beach, had
+not ventured to force their way to the cave. The Black Prince, finding
+that no signal was made from the ledge above the cave, suspected
+mischief, heaved anchor and bore away. The stupefied members of the
+Preventive service were conveyed to the nearest cottages, and there
+left to recover. As for Othello Cottage, it was a blazing and smoking
+mass of fire, and till late on the following day could not be
+searched. There was no fire-engine anywhere near; nor would a
+fire-engine have availed to save either the building or its contents.
+
+When Mr. Mules appeared, Judith said in a quiet but firm tone, "I have
+come to sign the register. Mr. Menaida is here. I do it willingly, and
+with no constraint."
+
+"Thank you. This is most considerate to my feelings. I wish all my
+flock would obey my advice as you are now doing," said the rector, and
+produced the book, which Judith signed with trembling hand.
+
+Mr. Desiderius was quite ignorant of the events of the night. He had
+no idea that at that time Captain Coppinger was dead.
+
+It was not till some days later that Judith understood why, at the
+last moment, with death before his eyes, Coppinger had urged on her
+this ratification of her marriage. It was not till his will was found,
+that she understood his meaning. He had left to her, as his wife,
+everything that he possessed. No one knew of any relatives that he
+had, for no one knew whence he came. No one ever appeared to put in a
+claim against the widow.
+
+On the second day the remains of the burnt cottage were cleared away,
+and then the body of Cruel Coppinger was found, fearfully charred, and
+disfigured past recognition. There were but two persons who knew that
+this blackened corpse belonged to the long dreaded captain, and these
+were Judith and Oliver. When the burnt body was cleared from the
+charred fragments of clothing that were about it one article was
+discovered uninjured. About his throat Coppinger had worn a silk
+handkerchief, and this as well as the collar of his coat had preserved
+his neck and the upper portion of his chest from injury such as had
+befallen the rest of his person. And when the burnt kerchief was
+removed, and the singed cloth of the coat-collar, there was discovered
+round the throat a narrow black band, and sewn into this band, one
+golden thread of hair, encircling the neck.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Are our readers acquainted with that local delicacy entitled, in
+Cornwall and Devon, Squab Pie? To enlighten the ignorant, it shall be
+described. First, however, we premise that of squab pies there are two
+sorts: Devonian squab and Cornish squab. The Cornish squab differs
+from the Devonian squab in one particular; that shall be specified
+presently.
+
+_How to Make a Squab Pie._--Take half a pound of veal, cut into nice
+square pieces, and put a layer of them at the bottom of a pie-dish.
+Sprinkle over these a portion of herbs, spices, seasoning, lemon-peel,
+and the yolks of eggs cut in slices; cut a quarter of a pound of
+boiled ham very thin, and put in a layer of this. Take half a pound of
+mutton cut into nice pieces, and put a layer of them on the top of the
+veal. Sprinkle as before with herbs and spices. Take half a pound of
+beef, cut into nice pieces, and put a layer of them on top of the
+mutton. Sprinkle as before with herbs and spices. Cut up half a dozen
+apples very fine, also half a dozen onions, mix, and proceed to ram
+the onions and apples into every perceivable crevice. Take half a
+dozen pilchards, remove the bones, chop up and strew the whole pie
+with pilchards. Then fill up with clotted cream, till the pie-dish
+will hold no more. (For Cornish squab add, treated in like manner, a
+cormorant.) Proceed to lay a puff paste on the edge of the dish. Then
+insert a tablespoon and stir the contents, till your arm aches. Cover
+with crust or ornament it with leaves, brush it over with the yolk of
+an egg, and bake in a well-heated oven for one or one and a half hour,
+or longer, should the pie be very large (two in the case of a Cornish
+squab, and the cormorant very tough).
+
+In one word, a squab pie is a scrap pie. So is the final chapter of a
+three-volume novel. It is made up, from the first word to the last, of
+scraps of all kinds, toothsome and the reverse.
+
+Now let the reader observe--he has been already supplied with scraps.
+He has learned the result of Mr. Menaida's collecting men to assist
+him against the smugglers. Also of his expedition along with Judith to
+the rectory of St. Enodoc. Also he has heard the provisions of Captain
+Coppinger's will; also that this will was not contested. He has also
+heard of the recovery of the Captain's body from the burnt cottage.
+
+Is not this a collection of scraps cut very small? But there are more,
+of a different character, with which this chapter will be made up,
+before the pie-crust closes over it with a flourishing "Finis" to
+ornament it.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray had lost his wife, who had been an ailing woman for
+some years, and being a widower, cast about his eyes for a second
+wife, after the way of widowers. There was not the excuse of a young
+family needing a prudent housewife to manage the children, for Mr.
+Scantlebray had only one daughter, who had been allotted by her father
+and by popular opinion to Captain Coppinger, but had failed to secure
+him. Mr. Scantlebray, though an active man, had not amassed much
+money, and if he could add to his comforts, provide himself with good
+eating and good drinking, by marrying a woman with money, he was not
+averse to so doing. Now, Mr. Scantlebray had lent a ready ear to the
+voice of rumor which made Miss Dionysia Trevisa the heiress who had
+come in for all the leavings of that rich old spinster, Miss Ceely, of
+St. Austell, and Mr. Scantlebray gave credit to this rumor, and acting
+on it, proposed to and was accepted by Miss Dionysia.
+
+Now when, after marriage, Mr. Scantlebray found out that the sweet
+creature he had taken to his side was worth under a quarter of the sum
+he had set down at the lowest figure, at which he could endure her,
+and when the late Miss Trevisa, now the second Mrs. Scantlebray,
+learned from her husband's lips that he had married her only for her
+money, and not for her good looks or for any good quality she was
+supposed to be endowed with, the reader, knowing something of the
+characters of these two persons, may conjecture, if he please, what
+sort of scenes ensued daily between them, and it may be safely
+asserted that the bitterest enemies of either could not have desired
+for each a more unenviable lot than was theirs.
+
+Very shortly after the death of Captain Coppinger, Judith and Jamie
+left Bristol in a vessel, with Uncle Zachie, bound for Lisbon. Oliver
+Menaida had gone to Oporto before, to make arrangements for his
+father. It was settled that Judith and her brother should live with
+the old man, and that the girl should keep house for him. Oliver would
+occupy his old quarters, that belonged to the firm in which he was a
+partner.
+
+It is a strange thing--but after the loss of Coppinger Judith's mind
+reverted much to him, she thought long and tenderly of his
+considerations for her, his patience with her, his forbearance, his
+gentleness toward her, and of his intense and enduring love. His
+violence she forgot, and she put down the crimes he had committed to
+evil association, or to an irregulated, undisciplined conscience,
+excusable in a measure in one who had not the advantages she had
+enjoyed, of growing up under the eye of a blameless, honorable, and
+right-minded father.
+
+In the Consistory Court of Canterbury is a book of the marriages
+performed at the Oporto factory, by the English chaplain resident
+there. It begins in the year 1788 and ends in 1807. The author has
+searched this volume in vain for a marriage between Oliver Menaida
+and Judith Coppinger. If such a marriage did take place, it must have
+been after 1807, but the book of register of marriages later than this
+date is not to be found in the Consistory Court.
+
+Were they married?
+
+On inquiry at St. Enodoc no information has been obtained, for neither
+Judith nor the Menaidas had any relatives there with whom they
+communicated. If Mrs. Scantlebray ever heard, she said nothing, or, at
+all events, nothing she said concerning them has been remembered.
+
+Were they ever married?
+
+That question the reader must decide as he likes.
+
+
+FINIS.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+A Table of Contents has been added by the transcriber for the
+convenience of the reader.
+
+Saint is abbreviated to both S. and St. in this book.
+
+The author refers to plants by the names of escallonica and
+eschalonia. It's likely that both are errors for escallonia, but they
+are preserved as printed.
+
+Instances of archaic spelling (e.g. taught meaning taut) are preserved
+as printed. Variant spelling (e.g. jewelry and jewellery) is preserved
+as printed except where there was a clear prevalence of one form over
+another, as follows:
+
+    Page 21--Wyvell amended to Wyvill--"... on one occasion a
+    preventive man named Ewan Wyvill, ..."
+
+    Page 21--Wyvell amended to Wyvill--"Wyvill had disappeared,
+    and the body was recovered ..."
+
+    Page 79--jassamine amended to jessamine--"... a-smelling to
+    the jessamine is the surveyor ..."
+
+    Page 191--stupified amended to stupefied--"... so stupefied
+    was he by his terrors, ..."
+
+Hyphenation usage has been made consistent.
+
+Minor punctuation errors have been repaired.
+
+The following printer errors have been fixed:
+
+    Page 31--contion amended to condition--"The chancel of the
+    church was in that condition ..."
+
+    Page 32--omitted 'a' added for sense--"... was to be
+    anticipated from a broken-hearted widow and helpless
+    children ..."
+
+    Page 34--repeated 'the' deleted--"... who occupied a
+    double cottage at the little hamlet of Polzeath."
+
+    Page 35--she amended to he--"... with a jerk of the rein and
+    a set of the brow he showed ..."
+
+    Page 56--Bluet amended to Blue--"... Boy Blue blew his horn,
+    ..."
+
+    Page 63--companian amended to companion--"... the friend and
+    companion of Judith."
+
+    Page 70--it amended to in--"... the voice summoned her to
+    come in, ..."
+
+    Page 104--repeated 'had' deleted--"... had seen him with his
+    carriers defile out of the lane ..."
+
+    Page 120--keenist amended to keenest--"A cry of intensest,
+    keenest anguish ..."
+
+    Page 126--repeated 'the' deleted--"That star on the black
+    sea--what did it mean?"
+
+    Page 162--aught amended to ought--"... but that he was told
+    it was there, he ought to see it, ..."
+
+    Page 163--hime amended to home--"... "may I get out now and
+    go home?""
+
+    Page 168--springs amended to sprigs--"... covered with sprigs
+    of nondescript pink and blue flowers."
+
+    Page 238--repeated 'and' deleted--"... and never once as I'm
+    a Christian ..."
+
+    Page 241--coldnesss amended to coldness--"... formed the
+    resolution to break down the coldness ..."
+
+    Page 247--or amended to of--"... to take this accumulation
+    of wreckage ..."
+
+    Page 248--officient amended to officiant--"... immediately
+    over the head of the officiant, ..."
+
+    Page 259--remorselesss amended to remorseless--"...
+    remorseless and regardless of others, ..."
+
+    Page 278--Judiah amended to Judith--""Nothing," answered
+    Judith, ..."
+
+    Page 285--Travisa amended to Trevisa--"... by a little
+    sentiment for Miss Judith Trevisa, ..."
+
+    Page 337--chose amended to choose--"... and if I choose to
+    live in it I can."
+
+    Page 351--superfluous 'where' deleted before 'there'--"Judith
+    walked where, near the edge of the cliffs, there was no snow,
+    ..."
+
+    Page 362--breakfeast amended to breakfast--"... in utter
+    guilelessness, prepared my breakfast for me, ..."
+
+    Page 397--kness amended to knees--"... and herself on her
+    knees and dragged him ..."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's In the Roar of the Sea, by Sabine Baring-Gould
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of In the Roar of the Sea, by Sabine Baring-Gould.
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Roar of the Sea, by Sabine Baring-Gould
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: In the Roar of the Sea
+
+Author: Sabine Baring-Gould
+
+Release Date: August 31, 2012 [EBook #40631]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 379px;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="379" height="600"
+alt="Front cover of the book" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA</h1>
+
+
+<p class="padbase"><span class="vsmlfont">BY</span><br />
+<span class="lrgfont">S. BARING-GOULD</span><br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">AUTHOR OF<br />
+&ldquo;THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS,&rdquo; &ldquo;URITH,&rdquo; ETC.</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="padbase">NEW YORK<br />
+<span class="lrgfont">NATIONAL BOOK COMPANY</span><br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">6 MISSION PLACE</span></p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padbase"><span class="smlsmcap">Copyright, 1891,<br />
+by</span><br />
+<span class="smlfont">UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY.</span><br />
+&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">[<i>All rights reserved.</i>]</span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" summary="Table of Contents">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrb"><small>CHAPTER</small></td>
+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><small>PAGE</small></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">I.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">OVER AND DONE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">II.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A PASSAGE OF ARMS</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">III.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">CAPTAIN CRUEL</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">IV.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">HOP-O&rsquo;-MY-THUMB</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">V.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">THE BUTTONS</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">VI.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">UNCLE ZACHIE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">VII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A VISIT</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">VIII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A PATCHED PEACE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">IX.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">C. C.</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">X.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">EGO ET REGINA MEA</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XI.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">JESSAMINE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">THE CAVE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XIII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">IN THE DUSK</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XIV.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">WARNING OF DANGER</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XV.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">CHAINED</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XVI.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">ON THE SHINGLE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XVII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">FOR LIFE OR DEATH</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XVIII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">UNA</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XIX.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A GOLDFISH</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XX.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">BOUGHT AND SOLD</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXI.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">OTHELLO COTTAGE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">JAMIE&rsquo;S RIDE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXIII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">ALL IS FOR THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXIV.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A NIGHT EXCURSION</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXV.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">FOUND</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXVI.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">AN UNWILLING PRISONER</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXVII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A RESCUE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXVIII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">AN EXAMINATION</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXIX.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">ON A PEACOCK&rsquo;S FEATHER</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXX.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">THROUGH THE TAMARISKS</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXXI.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXXII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A DANGEROUS GIFT</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXXIII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">HALF A MARRIAGE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXXIV.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A BREAKFAST</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXXV.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">JACK O&rsquo; LANTERN</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXXVI.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">THE SEA-WOLVES</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXXVII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">BRUISED NOT BROKEN</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXXVIII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A CHANGE OF WIND</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XXXIX.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A FIRST LIE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_290">290</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XL.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">THE DIAMOND BUTTERFLY</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XLI.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A DEAD-LOCK</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XLII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">TWO LETTERS</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_313">313</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XLIII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">THE SECOND TIME</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_320">320</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XLIV.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">THE WHIP FALLS</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_327">327</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XLV.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">GONE FROM ITS PLACE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_334">334</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XLVI.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">A SECOND LIE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XLVII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">FAST IN HIS HANDS</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XLVIII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">TWO ALTERNATIVES</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_357">357</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">XLIX.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">NOTHING LIKE GROG</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_364">364</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">L.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">PLAYING FORFEITS</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_372">372</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">LI.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">SURRENDER</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_380">380</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">LII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">TO JUDITH</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_387">387</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">LIII.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">IN THE SMOKE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_395">395</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdrt">LIV.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">SQUAB PIE</td>
+    <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_403">403</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>5]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="titlerpt">IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA.</p>
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER I.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">OVER AND DONE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Sitting in the parsonage garden, in a white frock,
+with a pale green sash about her waist, leaning back
+against the red-brick wall, her glowing copper hair lit
+by the evening sun, was Judith Trevisa.</p>
+
+<p>She was tossing guelder-roses into the air; some
+dozens were strewn about her feet on the gravel, but
+one remained of the many she had plucked and thrown
+and caught, and thrown and caught again for a sunny
+afternoon hour. As each greenish-white ball of flowers
+went up into the air it diffused a faint but pleasant fragrance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I have done with you, my beauty, I have
+done altogether,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;With what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her father spoke. He had come up unperceived by
+the girl, burdened with a shovel in one hand and a
+bucket in the other, looking pale, weary, and worn.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa, you nearly spoiled my game. Let me finish,
+and I will speak.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it a very serious matter, Judith, and engrossing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Engrossing, but not serious, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je m&rsquo;amuse</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The old rector seated himself on the bench beside her,
+and he also leaned back against the red-brick, gold-and-gray-lichen-spotted
+wall, and looked into the distance
+before him, waiting till his daughter was ready to speak,
+not, perhaps, sorry to have a little rest first, for he was
+overtired. Had Judith not been absorbed in her ball-play
+with the guelder-rose bunch she would have noticed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>6]</a></span>
+his haggard appearance, the green hue about his mouth,
+the sunken eyes, the beaded brow. But she was counting
+the rebounds of her ball, bent on sustaining her play
+as long as was possible to her.</p>
+
+<p>She formed a charming picture, fresh and pure, and
+had the old man not been overtired, he would have
+thought so with a throb of parental pride.</p>
+
+<p>She was a child in size, slender in build, delicate in
+bone, with face and hands of porcelain transparency and
+whiteness, with, moreover, that incomparable complexion
+only seen in the British Isles, and then only with red-gold
+hair.</p>
+
+<p>Her bronze-leather shoes were the hue of some large
+flies that basked and frisked on the warm wall, only
+slightly disturbed by the girl&rsquo;s play, to return again and
+run and preen themselves again, and glitter jewel-like as
+studs on that sun-baked, lichen-enamelled wall. Her
+eyes, moreover, were lustrous as the backs of these flies,
+iridescent with the changing lights of the declining
+sun, and the changed direction of her glance following
+the dancing ball of guelder-rose. Her long fingers
+might have been of china, but that when raised so that
+the sun struck their backs they were turned to a translucent
+rose. There was no color in her cheek, only the
+faintest suffusion of pink on the temples below where
+the hair was rolled back in waves of luminous molten
+copper dashing against the brick wall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have done my work,&rdquo; said the rector.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I my play,&rdquo; responded the girl, letting the ball
+drop into her lap and rock there from one knee to the
+other. &ldquo;Papa, this fellow is the conqueror; I have
+made him dance thirty-five great leaps, and he has not
+yet fallen&mdash;wilfully. I let him go down and get breath
+just now. There lie all my dancers dead about me.
+They failed very speedily.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You cannot be forever playing, Ju.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is why I play now, papa. When playtime is
+over I shall be in earnest indeed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed?&rdquo; the old man sighed.</p>
+
+<p>Judith looked round, and was shocked to see how ill
+her father appeared to be.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you very tired, darling papa?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;overtired.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you been at your usual task?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>7]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Yes, Ju&mdash;an unprofitable task.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, papa!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, unprofitable. The next wind from the sea that
+blows&mdash;one will blow in an hour&mdash;and all my work is
+undone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, my dear papa!&rdquo; Judith stooped and looked
+into the bucket. &ldquo;Why!&mdash;what has made you bring a
+load of sand up here? We want none in the garden.
+And such a distance too!&mdash;from the church. No wonder
+you are tired.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have I brought it?&rdquo; he asked, without looking at
+the bucket.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have, indeed. That, if you please, is unprofitable
+work, not the digging of the church out of the
+sand-heaps that swallow it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, I did not know that I had not emptied the
+pail outside the church-yard gate. I am very tired;
+perhaps that explains it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No doubt about it, papa. It was work quite as unprofitable
+but much more exhausting than my ball-play.
+Now, papa, while you have been digging your church
+out of the sand, which will blow over it again to-night,
+you say, I have been pitching and tossing guelder-roses.
+We have been both wasting time, one as much as the
+other.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One as much as the other,&rdquo; repeated the old man.
+&ldquo;Yes, dear, one as much as the other, and I have been
+doing it all my time here&mdash;morally, spiritually, as well
+as materially, digging the church out of the smothering
+sands, and all in vain&mdash;all profitless work. You are
+right, Ju.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa,&rdquo; said Judith hastily, seeing his discouragement
+and knowing his tendency to depression, &ldquo;papa,
+do you hear the sea how it roars? I have stood on the
+bench, more than once, to look out seaward, and find a
+reason for it; but there is none&mdash;all blue, blue as a
+larkspur; and not a cloud in the sky&mdash;all blue, blue
+there too. No wind either, and that is why I have done
+well with my ball-play. Do you hear the roar of the
+sea, papa?&rdquo; she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Ju. There will be a storm shortly. The sea is
+thrown into great swells of rollers, a sure token that
+something is coming. Before night a gale will be on
+us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>8]</a></span>
+Then ensued silence. Judith with one finger trifled
+with the guelder-rose bunch in her lap musingly, not
+desirous to resume her play with it. Something in her
+father&rsquo;s manner was unusual, and made her uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear!&rdquo; he began, after a pause, &ldquo;one must look
+out to sea&mdash;into the vast mysterious sea of the future&mdash;and
+prepare for what is coming from it. Just now the
+air is still, and we sit in this sweet, sunny garden, and
+lean our backs against the warm wall, and smell the fragrance
+of the flowers; but we hear the beating of the
+sea, and know that a mighty tempest, with clouds and
+darkness, is coming. So in other matters we must look
+out and be ready&mdash;count the time till it comes. My
+dear, when I am gone&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We were looking out to sea and listening. That
+must come at some time&mdash;it may come sooner than you
+anticipate.&rdquo; He paused, heaved a sigh, and said, &ldquo;Oh,
+Jamie! What are we to do about Jamie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa, I will always take care of Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But who will take care of you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of me? Oh, papa, surely I can take care of myself!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa, you know how strong I am in will&mdash;how firm
+I can be with Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But all mankind are not Jamies. It is not for you
+I fear, as much as for you and him together. He is a
+trouble and a difficulty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie is not so silly and troublesome as you think.
+All he needs is application. He cannot screw his mind
+down to his books&mdash;to any serious occupation. But that
+will come. I have heard say that the stupidest children
+make the sharpest men. Little by little it will come,
+but it will come certainly. I will set myself as my task
+to make Jamie apply his mind and become a useful man,
+and I shall succeed, papa.&rdquo; She caught her father&rsquo;s hand
+between hers, and slapped it joyously, confidently. &ldquo;How
+cold your hand is, papa! and yet you look warm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You were always Jamie&rsquo;s champion,&rdquo; said her father,
+not noticing her remark relative to himself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is my twin brother, so of course I am his champion.
+Who else would be that, were not I?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;no one else. He is mischievous and troublesome&mdash;poor,
+poor fellow. You will always be to Jamie
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>9]</a></span>
+what you are now, Ju&mdash;his protector or champion? He
+is weak and foolish, and if he were to fall into bad hands&mdash;I
+shudder to think what might become of him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rely on me, dearest father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he lifted the hand of his daughter, and looked
+at it with a faint smile. &ldquo;It is very small, it is very
+weak, to fight for self alone, let alone yourself encumbered
+with Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will do it, papa, do not fear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith, I must talk very gravely with you, for the
+future is very dark to me; and I am unable with hand
+or brain to provide anything against the evil day.
+Numbness is on me, and I have been hampered on every
+side. For one thing, the living has been so poor, and
+my parishioners so difficult to deal with, that I have been
+able to lay by but a trifle. I believe I have not a relative
+in the world&mdash;none, at all events, near enough and known
+to me that I dare ask him to care for you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa, there is Aunt Dionysia.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt Dionysia,&rdquo; he repeated, with a hesitating voice.
+&ldquo;Yes; but Aunt Dionysia is&mdash;is not herself capable of
+taking charge of you. She has nothing but what she
+earns, and then&mdash;Aunt Dionysia is&mdash;is&mdash;well&mdash;Aunt Dionysia.
+I don&rsquo;t think you could be happy with her, even
+if, in the event of my departure, she were able to take
+care of you. Then&mdash;and that chiefly&mdash;she has chosen,
+against my express wishes&mdash;I may say, in defiance of me&mdash;to
+go as housekeeper into the service of the man, of
+all others, who has been a thorn in my side, a hinderer
+of God&rsquo;s work, a&mdash;But I will say no more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What! Cruel Coppinger?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Cruel Coppinger. I might have been the means
+of doing a little good in this place, God knows! I only
+<em>think</em> I might; but I have been thwarted, defied, insulted
+by that man. As I have striven to dig my buried church
+out of the overwhelming sands, so have I striven to lift
+the souls of my poor parishioners out of the dead engulfing
+sands of savagery, brutality, very heathenism of
+their mode of life, and I have been frustrated. The
+winds have blown the sands back with every gale over
+my work with spade, and that stormblast Coppinger has
+devastated every trace of good that I have done, or tried
+to do, in spiritual matters. The Lord reward him according
+to his works.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>10]</a></span>
+Judith felt her father&rsquo;s hand tremble in hers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind Coppinger now,&rdquo; she said, soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must mind him,&rdquo; said the old man, with severe
+vehemence. &ldquo;And&mdash;that my own sister should go, go&mdash;out
+of defiance, into his house and serve him! That was
+too much. I might well say, I have none to whom to
+look as your protector.&rdquo; He paused awhile, and wiped
+his brow. His pale lips were quivering. &ldquo;I do not
+mean to say,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;that I acted with judgment,
+when first I came to S. Enodoc, when I spoke against
+smuggling. I did not understand it then. I thought
+with the thoughts of an inlander. Here&mdash;the sands
+sweep over the fields, and agriculture is in a measure
+impossible. The bays and creeks seem to invite&mdash;well&mdash;I
+leave it an open question. But with regard to wrecking&mdash;&rdquo;
+His voice, which had quavered in feebleness,
+according with the feebleness of his judgment relative
+to smuggling, now gained sonorousness. &ldquo;Wrecking,
+deliberate wrecking, is quite another matter. I do not
+say that our people are not justified in gathering the
+harvest the sea casts up. There always must be, there
+will be wrecks on this terrible coast; but there has been&mdash;I
+know there has been, though I have not been able to
+prove it&mdash;deliberate provocation of wrecks, and that is
+the sin of Cain. Had I been able to prove&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind that now, dear papa. Neither I nor Jamie
+are, or will be, wreckers. Talk of something else.
+You over-excite yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith was accustomed to hear her father talk in an
+open manner to her. She had been his sole companion
+for several years, since his wife&rsquo;s death, and she had become
+the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">confidante</i> of his inmost thoughts, his vacillations,
+his discouragements, not of his hopes&mdash;for he had
+none, nor of his schemes&mdash;for he formed none.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not think I have been of any use in this world,&rdquo;
+said the old parson, relapsing into his tone of discouragement,
+the temporary flame of anger having died
+away. &ldquo;My sowing has produced no harvest. I have
+brought light, help, strength to none. I have dug all
+day in the vineyard, and not a vine is the better for it;
+all cankered and fruitless.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa&mdash;and me! Have you done nothing for me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He had not thought of his child.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>11]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Papa! Do you think that I have gained naught
+from you? No strength, no resolution from seeing you
+toil on in your thankless work, without apparent results?
+If I have any energy and principle to carry me through
+I owe it to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was moved, and raised his trembling hand and laid
+it on her golden head.</p>
+
+<p>He said no more, and was very still.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she spoke. His hands weighed heavily on
+her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa, you are listening to the roar of the sea?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa, I felt a cold breath; and see, the sun has a
+film over it. Surely the sea is roaring louder!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His hand slipped from her head and struck her
+shoulder&mdash;roughly, she thought. She turned, startled,
+and looked at him. His eyes were open, he was leaning
+back, almost fallen against the wall, and was deadly
+pale.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa, you are listening to the roar?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then a thought struck her like a bullet in the heart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa! Papa! My papa!&mdash;speak&mdash;speak!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She sprang from the bench&mdash;was before him. Her
+left guelder-rose had rolled, had bounded from her lap,
+and had fallen on the sand the old man had listlessly
+brought up from the church. His work, her play, were
+forever over.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>12]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER II.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A PASSAGE OF ARMS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The stillness preceding the storm had yielded. A gale
+had broken over the coast, raged against the cliffs of
+Pentyre, and battered the walls of the parsonage, without
+disturbing the old rector, whom no storm would
+trouble again, soon to be laid under the sands of his
+buried church-yard, his very mound to be heaped over in
+a few years, and obliterated by waves of additional encroaching
+sand. Judith had not slept all night. She&mdash;she,
+a mere child, had to consider and arrange everything
+consequent on the death of the master of the house.
+The servants&mdash;cook and house-maid&mdash;had been of little,
+if any, assistance to her. When Jane, the house-maid,
+had rushed into the kitchen with the tidings that the old
+parson was dead, cook, in her agitation, upset the kettle
+and scalded her foot. The gardener&rsquo;s wife had come in
+on hearing the news, and had volunteered help. Judith
+had given her the closet-key to fetch from the stores
+something needed; and Jamie, finding access to the
+closet, had taken possession of a pot of raspberry jam,
+carried it to bed with him, and spilled it over the sheets,
+besides making himself ill. The house-maid, Jane, had
+forgotten in her distraction to shut the best bedroom
+casement, and the gale during the night had wrenched it
+from its hinges, flung it into the garden on the roof of
+the small conservatory, and smashed both. Moreover,
+the casement being open, the rain had driven into the
+room unchecked, had swamped the floor, run through
+and stained the drawing-room ceiling underneath, the
+drips had fallen on the mahogany table and blistered the
+veneer. A messenger was sent to Pentyre Glaze for
+Miss Dionysia Trevisa, and she would probably arrive in
+an hour or two.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Trevisa, as he had told Judith, was solitary, singularly
+so. He was of a good Cornish family, but it was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>13]</a></span>
+one that had dwindled till it had ceased to have other
+representative than himself. Once well estated, at
+Crockadon, in S. Mellion, all the lands of the family had
+been lost; once with merchants in the family, all the
+fortunes of these merchants industriously gathered had
+been dissipated, and nothing had remained to the Reverend
+Peter Trevisa but his family name and family coat,
+a garb or, on a field gules. It really seemed as though
+the tinctures of the shield had been fixed in the crown of
+splendor that covered the head of Judith. But she did
+not derive this wealth of red-gold hair from her Cornish
+ancestors, but from a Scottish mother, a poor governess
+whom Mr. Peter Trevisa had married, thereby exciting
+the wrath of his only sister and relative, Miss Dionysia,
+who had hitherto kept house for him, and vexed his soul
+with her high-handed proceedings. It was owing to
+some insolent words used by her to Mrs. Trevisa that
+Peter had quarrelled with his sister at first. Then when
+his wife died, she had forced herself on him as housekeeper,
+but again her presence in the house had become
+irksome to him, and when she treated his children&mdash;his
+delicate and dearly loved Judith&mdash;with roughness, and his
+timid, silly Jamie with harshness, amounting in his view
+to cruelty&mdash;harsh words had passed between them;
+sharp is, however, hardly the expression to use for the
+carefully worded remonstrances of the mild rector,
+though appropriate enough to her rejoinders. Then
+she had taken herself off and had become housekeeper
+to Curll Coppinger, Cruel Coppinger, as he was usually
+called, who occupied Pentyre Glaze, and was a fairly
+well-to-do single man.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Trevisa had not been a person of energy, but
+one of culture and refinement; a dispirited, timid man.
+Finding no neighbors of the same mental texture, nor
+sympathetic, he had been driven to make of Judith,
+though a child, his companion, and he had poured into
+her ear all his troubles, which largely concerned the
+future of his children. In his feebleness he took comfort
+from her sanguine confidence, though he was well
+aware that it was bred of ignorance, and he derived a
+weak satisfaction from the thought that he had prepared
+her morally, at all events, if in no other fashion,
+for the crisis that must come when he was withdrawn.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Peter Trevisa&mdash;Peter was a family Christian name&mdash;was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>14]</a></span>
+for twenty-five years rector of S. Enodoc, on the
+north coast of Cornwall at the mouth of the Camel.
+The sand dunes had encroached on the church of S.
+Enodoc, and had enveloped the sacred structure. A hole
+was broken through a window, through which the interior
+could be reached, where divine service was performed
+occasionally in the presence of the church-wardens,
+so as to establish the right of the rectors, and
+through this same hole bridal parties entered to be
+coupled, with their feet ankle-deep in sand that filled the
+interior to above the pew-tops.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Trevisa was not the man to endure such a
+condition of affairs without a protest and an effort to
+remedy it. He had endeavored to stimulate the farmers
+and land-owners of the parish to excavate the buried
+church, but his endeavors had proved futile. There
+were several reasons for this. In the first place, and certainly
+foremost, stood this reason: as long as the church
+was choked with sand and could not be employed for
+regular divine service, the tithe-payers could make a
+grievance of it, and excuse themselves from paying their
+tithes in full, because, as they argued, &ldquo;Parson don&rsquo;t give
+us sarvice, so us ain&rsquo;t obliged to pay&rsquo;n.&rdquo; They knew
+their man, that he was tender-conscienced, and would not
+bring the law to bear upon them; he would see that
+there was a certain measure of justness in the argument,
+and would therefore not demand of them a tithe for
+which he did not give them the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">quid pro quo</i>. But they
+had sufficient shrewdness to pay a portion of their
+tithes, so as not to drive him to extremities and exhaust
+his patience. It will be seen, therefore, that in the interests
+of their pockets the tithe-payers did not want
+to have their parish church excavated. Excavation
+meant weekly service regularly performed, and weekly
+service regularly performed would be followed by exaction
+of the full amount of rent-charge. Then, again, in
+the second place, should divine service be resumed in
+the church of S. Enodoc, the parishioners would feel a
+certain uneasiness in their consciences if they disregarded
+the summons of the bell; it might not be a very
+lively uneasiness, but just such an irritation as might be
+caused by a fly crawling over the face. So long as there
+was no service they could soothe their consciences with
+the thought that there was no call to make an effort to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>15]</a></span>
+pull on Sunday breeches and assume a Sunday hat, and
+trudge to the church. Therefore, secondly, for the ease
+of their own consciences, it was undesirable that S. Enodoc
+should be dug out of the sand.</p>
+
+<p>Then lastly, and thirdly, the engulfment of the church
+gave them a cherished opportunity for being nasty to
+the rector, and retailing upon him for his incaution in
+condemning smuggling and launching out into anathema
+against wrecking. As he had made matters disagreeable
+to them&mdash;tried, as they put it, to take bread out of their
+mouths, they saw no reason why they should spend
+money to please him.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Trevisa had made very little provision for his
+children, principally, if not wholly, because he could not.
+He had received from the farmers and land-owners a portion
+of tithe, and had been contented with that rather
+than raise angry feelings by demanding the whole. Out
+of that portion he was able to put aside but little.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Dionysia arrived, a tall, bony woman, with hair
+turning gray, light eyes and an aquiline nose, a hard,
+self-seeking woman, who congratulated herself that she
+did not give way to feelings.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I feel,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;as do others, but I don&rsquo;t show my
+feelings as beggars expose their bad legs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She went into the kitchen. &ldquo;Hoity-toity!&rdquo; she said
+to the cook, &ldquo;fine story this&mdash;scalding yourself. Mind
+this, you cook meals or no wage for you.&rdquo; To Jane, &ldquo;The
+mischief you have done shall be valued and deducted
+from any little trifle my brother may have left you in his
+will. Where is Jamie? Give me that joint of fishing-rod;
+I&rsquo;ll beat him for stealing raspberry jam.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie, however, on catching a glimpse of his aunt had
+escaped into the garden and concealed himself. The
+cook, offended, began to clatter the saucepans.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, then,&rdquo; said Mrs. Trevisa&mdash;she bore the brevet-rank&mdash;&ldquo;in
+a house of mourning what do you mean by
+making this noise, it is impertinent to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The house-maid swung out of the kitchen, muttering.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Trevisa now betook herself up-stairs in quest of
+her niece, and found her with red eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I call it rank <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">felo-de-se</i>,&rdquo; said Aunt Dionysia. &ldquo;Every
+one knew&mdash;<em>he</em> knew, that he had a feeble heart, and ought
+not to be digging and delving in the old church. Who
+sent the sand upon it? Why, Providence, I presume.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>16]</a></span>
+Not man. Then it was a flying in the face of Providence
+to try to dig it out. Who wanted the church? He might
+have waited till the parishioners asked for it. But there&mdash;where
+is Jamie? I shall teach him a lesson for stealing
+raspberry jam.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, aunt, not now&mdash;not now!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Trevisa considered a moment, then laid aside the
+fishing-rod.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps you are right. I am not up to it after my
+walk from Pentyre Glaze. Now, then, what about mourning?
+I do not suppose Jamie can be measured by guesswork.
+You must bring him here. Tell him the whipping
+is put off till another day. Of course you have seen
+to black things for yourself. Not? Why, gracious heavens!
+is everything to be thrown on my shoulders? Am
+I to be made a beast of burden of? Now, no mewling
+and pewking. There is no time for that. Whatever
+<em>your</em> time may be, <em>mine</em> is valuable. I can&rsquo;t be here forever.
+Of course every responsibility has been put on
+me. Just like Peter&mdash;no consideration. And what can
+I do with a set of babies? I have to work hard enough
+to keep myself. Peter did not want my services at one
+time; now I am put upon. Have you sent for the undertaker?
+What about clothing again? I suppose you
+know that you must have mourning? Bless my heart!
+what a lot of trouble you give me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Trevisa was in a very bad temper, which even the
+knowledge that it was seemly that she should veil it
+could not make her restrain. She was, no doubt, to a
+certain extent fond of her brother&mdash;not much, because he
+had not been of any advantage to her; and no doubt she
+was shocked at his death, but chiefly because it entailed
+on herself responsibilities and trouble that she grudged.
+She would be obliged to do something for her nephew
+and niece; she would have to provide a home for them
+somewhere. She could not take them with her to Coppinger&rsquo;s
+house, as she was there as a salaried servant,
+and not entitled to invite thither her young relatives.
+Moreover, she did not want to have them near her. She
+disliked young people; they gave trouble, they had
+to be looked after, they entailed expenses. What was
+she to do with them? Where was she to put them?
+What would they have to live upon? Would they call
+on her to part-maintain them? Miss Dionysia had a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>17]</a></span>
+small sum put away, and she had no intention of breaking
+into it for them. It was a nest-egg, and was laid
+by against an evil day that might come on herself. She
+had put the money away for herself, in her old age, not
+for the children of her feeble brother and his lack-penny
+wife to consume as moth and rust. As these thoughts
+and questions passed through her mind, Aunt Dionysia
+pulled open drawers, examined cupboards, pried open
+closets, and searched chests and wardrobes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder now what he has put by for them,&rdquo; she said
+aloud.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean my dear papa?&rdquo; asked Judith, whose
+troubled heart and shaken spirits were becoming angry
+and restless under the behavior of the hard, unfeeling
+woman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I do,&rdquo; answered Mrs. Trevisa, facing round, and
+glaring malevolently at her niece. &ldquo;It is early days to
+talk of this, but it must be done sooner or later, and if
+so, the sooner the better. There is money in the house,
+I suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must know. You will want it&mdash;bills must be paid.
+You will eat and drink, I suppose? You must be clothed.
+I&rsquo;ll tell you what: I&rsquo;ll put the whole case into the hands
+of Lawyer Jenkyns, and he shall demand arrears of tithes.
+I know what quixotish conduct Peter&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt, I will not allow this.&rdquo; A light flush came into
+the girl&rsquo;s cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is all very well talking,&rdquo; said Aunt Dionysia;
+&ldquo;but black is not white, and no power on earth can
+make me say that it is so. Money must be found.
+Money must be paid for expenses, and it is hard that
+I should have to find it; so I think. What money is
+there in the house for present necessities? I must
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a loud voice was heard shouting through
+the house&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mother Dunes! old Dunes! I want you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith turned cold and white. Who was this that
+dared to bellow in the house of death, when her dear,
+dear father lay up-stairs with the blinds down, asleep?
+It was an insult, an outrage. Her nerves had already
+been thrilled, and her heart roused into angry revolt by
+the cold, unfeeling conduct of the woman who was her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>18]</a></span>
+sole relative in the world. And now, as she was thus
+quivering, there came this boisterous shout.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is the master!&rdquo; said Mrs. Trevisa, in an awestruck
+voice, lowered as much as was possible to her.</p>
+
+<p>To Coppinger alone she was submissive, cringing, obsequious.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What does he mean by this&mdash;this conduct?&rdquo; asked
+Judith, trembling with wrath.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He wants me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again a shout. &ldquo;Dunes! old fool! the keys!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Judith started forward, and went through the
+door to the head of the staircase. At the foot stood a
+middle-sized, strongly built, firmly knit man, in a dress
+half belonging to the land and half to the sea, with high
+boots on his legs, and slouched hat on his head. His
+complexion was olive, his hair abundant and black, covering
+cheeks and chin and upper lip. His eyes were
+hard and dark. He had one brown hand on the banister,
+and a foot on the first step, as though about to
+ascend, when arrested by seeing the girl at the head of
+the stairs before him. The house was low, and the
+steps led without a break directly from the hall to the
+landing which gave communication to the bedrooms.
+There was a skylight in the roof over the staircase,
+through which a brilliant flood of pure white light fell
+over Judith, whereas every window had been darkened
+by drawn blinds. The girl had found no sombre dress
+suitable to wear, and had been forced to assume the
+same white gown as the day before, but she had discarded
+the green sash and had bound a black ribbon
+about her waist, and another about her abundant hair.
+A black lace kerchief was drawn over her shoulders
+across her breast and tied at her back. She wore long,
+black mittens.</p>
+
+<p>Judith stood motionless, her bosom rising and falling
+quickly, her lips set, the breath racing through her
+nostrils, and one hand resting on the banister at the
+stair-head.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment her eyes met those of Coppinger, and
+it was at once as though a thrill of electric force had
+passed between them.</p>
+
+<p>He desisted from his attempt to ascend, and said,
+without moving his eyes from hers, in a subdued tone,
+&ldquo;She has taken the keys,&rdquo; but he said no more. He
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>19]</a></span>
+drew his foot from the step hesitatingly, and loosened
+his hand from the banister, down which went a thrill
+from Judith&rsquo;s quivering nerves, and he stepped back.</p>
+
+<p>At the same moment she descended a step, still looking
+steadily into the dark, threatening pupils, without
+blinking or lowering her orbs. Emboldened by
+her boiling indignation, she stood on the step she had
+reached with both feet firmly planted there, and finding
+that the banister rattled under her hand she withdrew
+it, and folded her arms. Coppinger raised his hand to
+his head and took off his hat. He had a profusion of
+dark, curly, flowing hair, that fell and encircled his
+saturnine face.</p>
+
+<p>Then Judith descended another step, and as she did
+so he retreated a step backwards. Behind him was the
+hall door, open; the light lay wan and white there on
+the gravel, for no sunshine had succeeded the gale. At
+every step that Judith took down the stair Coppinger
+retreated. Neither spoke; the hall was still, save for
+the sound of their breath, and his came as fast as hers.
+When Judith had reached the bottom she turned&mdash;Coppinger
+stood in the doorway now&mdash;and signed to her
+aunt to come down with the keys.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take them to him&mdash;Do not give them here&mdash;outside.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Trevisa, surprised, confounded, descended the
+stair, went by her, and out through the door. Then Judith
+stepped after her, shut the door to exclude both
+Aunt Dionysia and that man Coppinger, who had dared,
+uninvited, on such a day to invade the house.</p>
+
+<p>She turned now to remount the stairs, but her
+strength failed her, her knees yielded, and she sank
+upon a step, and burst into a flood of tears and convulsive
+sobs.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>20]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER III.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">CAPTAIN CRUEL.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Captain Coppinger occupied an old farmhouse, roomy,
+low-built, granite quoined and mullioned, called Pentyre
+Glaze, in a slight dip of the hills near the cliffs
+above the thundering Atlantic. One ash shivered at the
+end of the house&mdash;that was the only tree to be seen near
+Pentyre Glaze. And&mdash;who was Coppinger? That is
+more than can be told. He had come&mdash;no one knew
+whence. His arrival on the north coast of Cornwall was
+mysterious. There had been haze over the sea for three
+days. When it lifted, a strange vessel of foreign rig
+was seen lying off the coast. Had she got there in the
+fog, not knowing her course; or had she come there
+knowingly, and was making for the mouth of the Camel?
+A boat was seen to leave the ship, and in it a man
+came ashore; the boat returned to the vessel, that thereupon
+spread sail and disappeared in the fog that re-descended
+over the water. The man gave his name as
+Coppinger&mdash;his Christian name, he said, was Curll, and
+he was a Dane; but though his intonation was not that
+of the Cornish, it was not foreign. He took up his residence
+in S. Enodoc at a farm, and suddenly, to the surprise
+of every one, became by purchase the possessor of
+Pentyre Glaze, then vacant and for sale. Had he known
+that the estate was obtainable when he had come suddenly
+out of the clouds into the place to secure it? Nobody
+knew, and Coppinger was silent.</p>
+
+<p>Thenceforth Pentyre Glaze became the harbor and
+den of every lawless character along the coast. All
+kinds of wild uproar and reckless revelry appalled the
+neighborhood day and night. It was discovered that an
+organized band of smugglers, wreckers, and poachers
+made this house the centre of their operations, and that
+&ldquo;Cruel Coppinger&rdquo; was their captain. There were at
+that time&mdash;just a century ago&mdash;no resident magistrates
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>21]</a></span>
+or gentry in the immediate neighborhood. The yeomen
+were bribed, by kegs of spirits left at their doors, to
+acquiesce in a traffic in illicit goods, and in the matter
+of exchange they took their shares. It was said that on
+one occasion a preventive man named Ewan Wyvill,
+who had pursued Coppinger in his boat, was taken by
+him, and his head chopped off by the captain, with his
+boat axe, on the gunwale. Such was the story. It was
+never proved. Wyvill had disappeared, and the body
+was recovered headless on the Doom Bar. That violence
+had been used was undoubted, but who had committed
+the crime was not known, though suspicion pointed to
+Coppinger. Thenceforth none ever called him Curll;
+by one consent he was named Cruel. In the West of
+England every one is given his Christian name. An old
+man is Uncle, and an old woman Aunt, and any one in
+command is a Captain. So Coppinger was known as
+Captain Cruel, or as Cruel Coppinger.</p>
+
+<p>Strange vessels were often seen appearing at regular
+intervals on the coast, and signals were flashed from the
+one window of Pentyre Glaze that looked out to sea.</p>
+
+<p>Among these vessels, one, a full-rigged schooner, soon
+became ominously conspicuous. She was for long the
+terror of the Cornish coast. Her name was The Black
+Prince. Once, with Coppinger on board, she led a revenue
+cutter into an intricate channel among the rocks,
+where, from knowledge of the bearings, The Black Prince
+escaped scathless, while the king&rsquo;s vessel perished with
+all on board.</p>
+
+<p>Immunity increased Coppinger&rsquo;s daring. There were
+certain bridle-roads along the fields over which he exercised
+exclusive control. He issued orders that no man
+should pass over them by night, and accordingly from
+that hour none ever did.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p>
+
+<div class="footnote">
+<p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a>
+Many stories of Cruel Coppinger may be found in Hawker&rsquo;s Footprints
+of Former Men in Cornwall. I have also told them in my
+Vicar of Morwenstow. I have ventured to translate the scene of
+Coppinger&rsquo;s activity further west, from Wellcombe to S. Enodoc. But,
+indeed, he is told of in many places on this coast.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Moreover, if report spoke true&mdash;and reports do not
+arise without cause&mdash;Coppinger was not averse from taking
+advantage, and that unlawful advantage, of a wreck.
+By &ldquo;lawful&rdquo; and &ldquo;unlawful&rdquo; two categories of acts are
+distinguished, not by the laws of the land but by common
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>22]</a></span>
+consent of the Cornish conscience. That same
+Cornish conscience distinguished wrecking into two
+classes, as it distinguished then, and distinguishes still,
+witchcraft into two classes. The one, white witchcraft, is
+legitimate and profitable, and to be upheld; the other,
+black witchcraft, is reprehensible, unlawful, and to be put
+down. So with wrecking. The Bristol Channel teemed
+with shipping, flights of white sails passed in the offing,
+and these vessels were, when inward bound, laden with
+sugars and spices from the Indies, or with spirits and
+wines from France. If outward bound they were deep
+in the water with a cargo of the riches of England.</p>
+
+<p>Now, should a gale spring up suddenly and catch any
+of these vessels, and should the gale be&mdash;as it usually is,
+and to the Cornish folk, favorably is&mdash;from the northwest,
+then there was no harbor of refuge along that rock-bound
+coast, and a ship that could not make for the open
+was bound inevitably to be pounded to pieces against
+the precipitous walls of the peninsula. If such were the
+case, it was perfectly legitimate for every householder in
+the district to come down on the wreck and strip it of
+everything it contained.</p>
+
+<p>But, on the other hand, there was wrecking that was
+disapproved of, though practised by a few, so rumor
+said, and that consisted in luring a vessel that was in
+doubt as to her course, by false signals, upon a reef or
+bar, and then, having made a wreck of her, to pillage her.
+When on a morning after a night in which there had
+been no gale, a ship was found on the rocks, and picked
+as clean as the carcase of a camel in the desert, it was
+open to suspicion that this ship had not been driven
+there by wind or current; and when the survivors, if they
+reached the shore, told that they had been led to steer in
+the direction where they had been cast away by certain
+lights that had wholly deceived them, then it was also
+open to suspicion that these lights had been purposely
+exhibited for the sake of bringing that vessel to destruction;
+and when, further, it was proved that a certain set
+or gang of men had garnered all the profits, or almost all
+the profits, that accrued from a wreck, before the countryside
+was aware that a wreck had occurred, then it was
+certainly no very random conjecture that the wreck had
+been contrived in some fashion by those who profited by
+it. There were atrocious tales of murder of shipwrecked
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>23]</a></span>
+men circulating, but these were probably wholly, or at
+all events in part, untrue. If when a vessel ran upon the
+rocks she was deserted by her crew, if they took to the
+boats and made for shore, then there remained no impediment
+to the wreckers taking possession; it was only
+in the event of their finding a skipper on board to maintain
+right over the grounded vessel, or the mariners still
+on her engaged in getting her off, that any temptation
+to violence could arise. But it was improbable that a
+crew would cling to a ship on such a coast when once
+she was on the breakers. It was a moral certainty that
+they would desert her, and leave the wreck to be pillaged
+by the rats from shore, without offer of resistance. The
+character of the coast-wreckers was known to seamen,
+or rather a legend full of horror circulated relative to
+their remorseless savagery. The fear of wreckers added
+to the fear of the sea would combine to drive a crew, to
+the last man, into the boats. Consequently, though it is
+possible that in some cases murder of castaway men may
+have occurred, such cases must have been most exceptional.
+The wreckers were only too glad to build a
+golden bridge by which the wrecked might escape.
+Morally, without a question, those who lured a hapless
+merchantman upon the rocks were guilty of the deaths
+of those sailors who were upset in their boats in escaping
+from the vessel, or were dashed against the cliffs in
+their attempts to land, but there was no direct blood-guiltiness
+felt in such cases; and those who had reaped
+a harvest from the sea counted their gains individually,
+and made no estimate of the misery accruing thereby to
+others.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>24]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER IV.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">HOP-O&rsquo;-MY-THUMB.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;Listen to me,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Ju!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The orphans were together in the room that had been
+their father&rsquo;s, the room in which for some days he had
+lain with the blinds down, the atmosphere heavy with
+the perfume of flowers, and that indescribable, unmistakable
+scent of death. Often, every day, almost every
+hour, had Judith stolen into the room while he lay there,
+to wonder with infinite reverence and admiration at the
+purity and dignity of the dead face. It was that of the
+dear, dear father, but sublimed beyond her imagination.
+All the old vacillation was gone, the expression of distress
+and discouragement had passed away, and in their
+place had come a fixity and a calm, such as one sees in
+the busts of the ancient Roman C&aelig;sars, but with a
+superadded ethereality, if such a word can be used,
+that a piece of pagan statuary never reached. Marvellous,
+past finding out, it is that death, which takes from
+man the spiritual element, should give to the mere clay
+a look of angelic spirituality, yet so it is&mdash;so it was with
+the dead Peter Trevisa; and Judith, with eyes filling as
+fast as dried, stood, her hands folded, looking into his
+face, felt that she had never loved, never admired him
+half enough when he was alive. Life had been the simmer
+in which all the scum of trivialities, of infirmities,
+of sordidness had come to and shown itself on the surface.
+Now Death had cleared these all away, and in the
+peaceful face of the dead was seen the <em>real</em> man, the nobility,
+sanctity, delicacy that formed the texture of his
+soul, and which had impressed the very clay wrapped
+about that volatile essence.</p>
+
+<p>As long as the dear father&rsquo;s body lay in the house
+Judith had not realized her utter desolation. But now
+the funeral was over, and she had returned with her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>25]</a></span>
+brother to the parsonage, to draw up the blinds, and let
+the light once more enter, and search out, and revivify
+the dead rooms.</p>
+
+<p>She was very pale, with reddened eyes, and looking
+more fragile and transparent than ever she did before,
+worn and exhausted by tearful, wakeful nights, and by
+days of alternating gusts of sorrow and busy preparation
+for the funeral, of painful recollections of joyous
+days that were past, and of doubtful searchings into a
+future that was full of cloud.</p>
+
+<p>Her black frock served to enhance her pallor, and to
+make her look thinner, smaller than when in white or
+in color.</p>
+
+<p>She had taken her place in her father&rsquo;s high-backed
+leather chair, studded thick with brass nails, the leather
+dulled and fretted by constant use, but the nail-heads
+burnished by the same treatment.</p>
+
+<p>Her brother was in the same chair with her; both his
+arms were round her neck, and his head was on her
+shoulder. She had her right arm about his waist, her
+left was bowed, the elbow leaning on the chair arm, her
+hand folded inward, and her weary head rested on its
+back.</p>
+
+<p>The fine weather broken in upon by the gale had returned;
+the sun shone in unhindered at the window, and
+blazed on the children&rsquo;s hair; the brass nails, polished
+by friction, twinkled as little suns, but were naught in
+lustre to the gorgeous red of the hair of the twins, for
+the first were but brass, and the other of living gold.</p>
+
+<p>Two more lonely beings could hardly be discovered on
+the face of the earth&mdash;at all events in the peninsula of
+Cornwall&mdash;but the sense of this loneliness was summed
+in the heart of Judith, and was there articulate; Jamie
+was but dimly conscious of discomfort and bereavement.
+She knew what her father&rsquo;s death entailed on her, or
+knew in part, and conjectured more. Had she been left
+absolutely alone in the world her condition would have
+been less difficult than it was actually, encumbered with
+her helpless brother. Swimming alone in the tossing
+sea, she might have struck out with confidence that she
+could keep her head above water, but it was quite otherwise
+when clinging to her was a poor, half-witted boy,
+incapable of doing anything to save himself, and all
+whose movements tended only to embarrass her. Not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>26]</a></span>
+that she regretted for an instant having to care for
+Jamie, for she loved him with sisterly and motherly
+love combined, intensified in force by fusion; if to her
+a future seemed inconceivable without Jamie, a future
+without him would be one without ambition, pleasure,
+or interest.</p>
+
+<p>The twin brother was very like her, with the same
+beautiful and abundant hair, delicate in build, and with
+the same refined face, but without the flashes of alternating
+mood that lightened and darkened her face. His
+had a searching, bewildered, distressed expression on it&mdash;the
+only expression it ever bore except when he was
+out of temper, and then it mirrored on its surface his
+inward ill-humor. His was an appealing face, a face
+that told of a spirit infantile, innocent, and ignorant,
+that would never grow stronger, but which could deteriorate
+by loss of innocence&mdash;the only charge of which it
+was capable. The boy had no inherent naughtiness in
+him, but was constantly falling into mischief through
+thoughtlessness, and he was difficult to manage because
+incapable of reasoning.</p>
+
+<p>What every one saw&mdash;that he never would be other
+than what he was&mdash;Judith would not admit. She acknowledged
+his inaptitude at his books, his frivolity,
+his restlessness, but believed that these were infirmities
+to be overcome, and that when overcome the boy would
+be as other boys are.</p>
+
+<p>Now these children&mdash;they were aged eighteen, but
+Jamie looked four years younger&mdash;sat in their father&rsquo;s
+chair, clinging to each other, all in all to one another,
+for they had no one else to love and who loved them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Listen to me, Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Ju, I be&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t say &lsquo;I be&rsquo;&mdash;say &lsquo;I am.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Ju.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie, dear!&rdquo; she drew her arm tighter about him;
+her heart was bounding, and every beat caused her pain.
+&ldquo;Jamie, dear, you know that, now dear papa is gone,
+and you will never see him in this world again, that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Ju.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I have to look to you, my brother, to stand up
+for me like a man, to think and do for me as well as for
+yourself&mdash;a brave, stout, industrious fellow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Ju.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>27]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I am a girl, and you will soon be a man, and must
+work for both of us. You must earn the money, and I
+will spend it frugally as we both require it. Then we
+shall be happy again, and dear papa in Paradise will be
+glad and smile on us. You will make an effort, will you
+not, Jamie? Hitherto you have been able to run about
+and play and squander your time, but now serious days
+have come upon us, and you must fix your mind on work
+and determine&mdash;Jamie&mdash;mind, screw your heart to a
+strong determination to put away childish things and
+be a man, and a strength and a comfort to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He put up his lips to kiss her cheek, but could not
+reach it, as her head was leaning on her hand away from
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you fidgeting at, my dear?&rdquo; she asked,
+without stirring, feeling his body restless under her arm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A nail is coming out,&rdquo; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>It was so; whilst she had been speaking to him he
+was working at one of the brass studs, and had loosened
+its bite in the chair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Jamie! you are making work by thus drawing
+out a nail. Can you not help me a little, and reduce the
+amount one has to think of and do? You have not been
+attending to what I said, and I was so much in earnest.&rdquo;
+She spoke in a tone of discouragement, and the tone,
+more than the words, impressed the susceptible heart of
+the boy. He began to cry.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are cross.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not cross, my pet; I am never cross with you, I
+love you too dearly; but you try my patience sometimes,
+and just now I am overstrained&mdash;and then I did
+want to make you understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now papa&rsquo;s dead I&rsquo;ll do no more lessons, shall I?&rdquo;
+asked Jamie, coaxingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must, indeed, and with me instead of papa.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">rosa</i>, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">ros&aelig;</i>?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">rosa</i>, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">ros&aelig;</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he sulked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t love you a bit. It is not fair. Papa is dead,
+so I ought not to have any more lessons. I hate <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">rosa</i>,
+<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">ros&aelig;</i>!&rdquo; He kicked the legs of the chair peevishly with
+his heels. As his sister said nothing, seemed to be inattentive&mdash;for
+she was weary and dispirited&mdash;he slapped
+her cheek by raising his hand over his head.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>28]</a></span>
+&ldquo;What, Jamie, strike me, your only friend?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he threw his arms round her again, and kissed
+her. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll love you; only, Ju, say I am not to do <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">rosa</i>,
+<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">ros&aelig;</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How long have you been working at the first declension
+in the Latin grammar, Jamie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He tried for an instant to think, gave up the effort,
+laid his head on her shoulder, and said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know and don&rsquo;t care. Say I am not to do
+<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">rosa</i>, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">ros&aelig;</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What! not if papa wished it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hate the Latin grammar!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For a while both remained silent. Judith felt the
+tension to which her mind and nerves had been subjected,
+and lapsed momentarily into a condition of something
+like unconsciousness, in which she was dimly
+sensible of a certain satisfaction rising out of the pause
+in thought and effort. The boy lay quiet, with his head
+on her shoulder, for a while, then withdrew his arms,
+folded his hands on his lap, and began to make a noise
+by compressing the air between the palms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a finch out there going &lsquo;chink! chink!&rsquo; and
+listen, Ju, I can make &lsquo;chink! chink!&rsquo; too.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith recovered herself from her distraction, and
+said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind the finch now. Think of what I say.
+We shall have to leave this house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course we must, sooner or later, and the sooner
+the better. It is no more ours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it is ours. I have my rabbits here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now that papa is dead it is no longer ours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a wicked shame.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not at all, Jamie. This house was given to papa for
+his life only; now it will go to a new rector, and Aunt
+Dunes<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> is going to fetch us away to another house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="footnote">
+<p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a>
+Dunes is the short for Dionysia.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t go,&rdquo; said the boy. &ldquo;I swear I won&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush, hush, Jamie! Don&rsquo;t use such expressions.
+I do not know where you have picked them up. We
+must go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And my rabbits, are they to go too?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>29]</a></span>
+&ldquo;The rabbits? We&rsquo;ll see about them. Aunt&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hate Aunt Dunes!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You really must not call her that; if she hears you
+she will be very angry. And consider, she has been
+taking a great deal of trouble about us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, she is dear papa&rsquo;s sister.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t papa get a nicer sister&mdash;like you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because he had to take what God gave him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boy pouted, and began to kick his heels against
+the chair-legs once more.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie, we must leave this house to-day. Aunt is
+coming to take us both away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, Jamie, I am going, and the cook is going, and
+so is Jane.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are cook and Jane coming with us?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, dear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We shall not want them. We cannot afford to keep
+them any more, to pay their wages; and then we shall
+not go into a house of our own. You must come with
+me, and be a joy and rest to me, dear Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She turned her head over, and leaned it on his head.
+The sun glowed in their mingled hair&mdash;all of one tinge
+and lustre. It sparkled in the tears on her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ju, may I have these buttons?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What buttons?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He shook himself free from his sister, slid his feet to
+the ground, went to a bureau, and brought to his sister
+a large open basket that had been standing on the top
+of the bureau. It had been turned out of a closet by
+Aunt Dionysia, and contained an accumulation of those
+most profitless of collected remnants&mdash;odd buttons, coat
+buttons, brass, smoked mother-of-pearl, shirt buttons,
+steel clasps&mdash;buttons of all kinds, the gathering together
+made during twenty-five years. Why the basket, after
+having been turned out of a lumber closet, had been left
+in the room of death, or why, if turned out elsewhere, it
+had been brought there, is more than even the novelist
+can tell. Suffice it that there it was, and by whom put
+there could not be said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! what a store of pretty buttons!&rdquo; exclaimed the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>30]</a></span>
+boy. &ldquo;Do look, Ju, these great big ones are just like
+those on Cheap Jack&rsquo;s red waistcoat. Here is a brass one
+with a horse on it. Do see! Oh, Ju, please get your
+needle and thread and sew this one on to my black
+dress.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith sighed. It was in vain for her to impress the
+realities of the situation on his wandering mind.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hark!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;There is Aunt Dunes. I
+hear her voice&mdash;how loud she speaks! She has come to
+fetch us away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is she going to take us to?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know, Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She will take us into the forest and lose us, like as
+did Hop-o&rsquo;-my-Thumb&rsquo;s father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are no forests here&mdash;hardly any trees.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She will leave us in the forest and run away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense, Jamie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sure she will. She doesn&rsquo;t like us. She wants
+to get rid of us. I don&rsquo;t care. May I have the basket of
+buttons?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I&rsquo;ll be Hop-o&rsquo;-my-Thumb.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>31]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER V.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">THE BUTTONS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>It was as Judith surmised. Mrs. Dionysia Trevisa
+had come to remove her nephew and niece from the
+rectory. She was a woman decided in character, especially
+in all that concerned her interests. She had made
+up her mind that the children could not be left unprotected
+in the parsonage, and she could not be with them.
+Therefore they must go. The servants must leave; they
+would be paid their month&rsquo;s wage, but by dismissing
+them their keep would be economized. There was a
+factotum living in a cottage near, who did the gardening,
+the cinder-sifting, and boot-cleaning for the rectory
+inmates, he would look after the empty house, and wait
+on in hopes of being engaged to garden, sift cinders, and
+clean boots for the new rector.</p>
+
+<p>As it was settled that the children must leave the
+house, the next thing to consider was where they were
+to be placed. The aunt could not take them to Pentyre
+Glaze; that was not to be thought of. They must be
+disposed of in some other way.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Trevisa had determined on a sale of her brother&rsquo;s
+effects: his furniture, bedding, curtains, carpets, books,
+plate, and old sermons. She was anxious to realize as
+soon as possible, so as to know for certain what she
+could calculate upon as being left her for the support of
+Judith and her brother. To herself the rector had left
+only a ring and five guineas. She had not expected
+more. His decease was not likely to be a benefit, but,
+on the contrary, an embarrassment to her. He had left
+about a thousand pounds, but then Mrs. Trevisa did not
+yet know how large a bite out of this thousand pounds
+would be taken by the dilapidations on rectory, glebe,
+and chancel. The chancel of the church was in that condition
+that it afforded a wide margin for the adjudication
+of dilapidations. They might be set down at ten
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>32]</a></span>
+shillings or a thousand pounds, and no one could say which
+was the fairest sum, as the chancel was deep in sand and
+invisible. The imagination of the valuer might declare
+it to be sound or to be rotten, and till dug out no one
+could impeach his judgment.</p>
+
+<p>In those days, when an incumbent died, the widow and
+orphans of the deceased appointed a valuer, and the incoming
+rector nominated his valuer, and these two cormorants
+looked each other in the eyes&mdash;said to each
+other, &ldquo;Brother, what pickings?&rdquo; And as less resistance
+to being lacerated and cleaned to the bone was to be anticipated
+from a broken-hearted widow and helpless children
+than from a robust, red-faced rector, the cormorants
+contrived to rob the widow and the fatherless. Then that
+cormorant who had been paid to look after the interest of
+the widow and children and had not done it said to the
+other cormorant, &ldquo;Brother, I&rsquo;ve done you a turn this
+time; do me the like when the chance falls to you.&rdquo; Now,
+although nominally the money picked off the sufferers was
+to go to the account of the incomer, it was not allowed
+to pass till the cormorants had taken toll of it. Moreover,
+these cormorants were architects, builders, solicitors,
+or contractors of some sort, and looked to get something
+further out of the incoming man they favored,
+whereas they knew they could get nothing at all out of
+the departed man who was buried. Now we have pretended
+to change all this; let us persuade ourselves we
+have made the conduct of these matters more honest and
+just.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Dionysia did not know by experience what
+valuers for dilapidations were, but she had always heard
+that valuation for dilapidations materially diminished
+the property of a deceased incumbent. She was consequently
+uneasy, and anxious to know the worst, and
+make the best of the circumstances that she could. She
+saw clearly enough that the sum that would remain
+when debts and valuation were paid would be insufficient
+to support the orphans, and she saw also with painful
+clearness that there would be a necessity for her to supplement
+their reduced income from her own earnings.
+This conviction did not sweeten her temper and increase
+the cordiality with which she treated her nephew and
+niece.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, hoity-toity!&rdquo; said Aunt Dionysia; &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>33]</a></span>
+one of your mewlers and pewkers. I have my work to
+do, and can&rsquo;t afford to waste time in the luxury of tears.
+You children shall come with me. I will see you settled
+in, and then Balhachet shall wheel over your boxes and
+whatever we want for the night. I have been away from
+my duties longer than I ought, and the maids are running
+wild, are after every one who comes near the place
+like horse-flies round the cattle on a sultry day. I will
+see you to your quarters, and then you must shift for
+yourselves. Balhachet can come and go between the
+rectory and Zachie Menaida as much as you want.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are we going to Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s, aunt?&rdquo; asked
+Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did I not say Zachie Menaida! If I said Zachie
+Menaida I suppose I meant what I said, or are you hard
+of hearing? Come&mdash;time to <em>me</em> is precious. Bustle&mdash;bustle&mdash;don&rsquo;t
+keep me waiting while you gape.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After a while Mrs. Trevisa succeeded in getting her
+nephew and niece to start. Judith, indeed, was ready at
+the first suggestion to go with her aunt, glad to get over
+the pang of leaving the house as quickly as might be.
+It was to be the rupture of one thread of the tie that
+bound her to the past, but an important thread. She was
+to leave the house as a home, though she would return
+to it again and again to carry away from it such of her
+possessions as she required and could find a place for at
+Zachary Menaida&rsquo;s. But with Jamie it was otherwise. He
+had run away, and had to be sought, and when found
+coaxed and cajoled into following his aunt and sister.</p>
+
+<p>Judith had found him, for she knew his nooks and
+dens. He was seated in a laurel bush playing with the
+buttons.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look, Ju! there is some broken mirror among the
+buttons. Stand still, and I will make the sun jump into
+your eyes. Open your mouth, and I will send him down
+your throat. Won&rsquo;t it be fun; I&rsquo;ll tease old Dunes with
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then come along with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>The distance to Zachary Menaida&rsquo;s cottage was about
+a mile and a quarter, partly through parish roads,
+partly through lanes, the way in parts walled and
+hedged up against the winds, in others completely exposed
+to every breath of air where it traversed a down.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>34]</a></span>
+Judith walked forward with her aunt, and Jamie
+lagged. Occasionally his sister turned her head to reassure
+herself that he had not given them the slip;
+otherwise she attended as closely as she was able to the
+instructions and exhortations of her aunt. She and her
+brother were to be lodged temporarily at Uncle Zachie&rsquo;s,
+that is to say, with Mr. Menaida, an elderly, somewhat
+eccentric man, who occupied a double cottage at
+the little hamlet of Polzeath. No final arrangement as
+to the destination of the orphans could be made till
+Aunt Dunes knew the result of the sale, and how much
+remained to the children after the father&rsquo;s trifling debts
+had been paid, and the considerable slice had been cut
+out of it by the valuers for dilapidations. Mrs. Trevisa
+talked fast in her harsh tones, and in a loud voice, without
+undulation or softness in it, and expected her niece
+to hear and give account for everything she told her,
+goading her to attention with a sharp reminder when
+she deemed that her mind was relaxed, and whipping
+her thoughts together when she found them wandering.
+But, indeed, it was not possible to forget for one moment
+the presence and personality of Dionysia, though
+the subject of her discourse might be unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>Every fibre of Judith&rsquo;s heart was strung and strained
+to the uttermost, to acutest feeling, and a sympathetic
+hand drawn across them would have produced a soft,
+thrilling, musical wail. Her bosom was so full to overflow
+that a single word of kindness, a look even that told
+of love, would have sufficed to make the child cast herself
+in a convulsion of grief into her aunt&rsquo;s arms, bury
+her face in her bosom, and weep out her pent-up tears.
+Then, after perhaps half an hour, she would have looked
+up through the rain into her aunt&rsquo;s face, and have
+smiled, and have loved that aunt passionately, self-sacrificingly,
+to her dying day. She was disposed to love
+her&mdash;for was not Dionysia the only relative she had;
+and was she not the very sister of that father who had
+been to her so much? But Mrs. Trevisa was not the
+woman to touch the taught cords with a light hand, or
+to speak or look in love. She was hard, angular, unsympathetic;
+and her manner, the intonations of her
+voice, her mode of address, the very movements of her
+body, acted on the strained nerves as a rasping file, that
+would fret till it had torn them through.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>35]</a></span>
+Suddenly round a corner, where the narrow road
+turned, two hundred yards ahead, dashed a rider on a
+black steed, and Judith immediately recognized Coppinger
+on his famous mare Black Bess; a mare much
+talked of, named after the horse ridden by Dick Turpin.
+The recognition was mutual. He knew her instantly;
+with a jerk of the rein and a set of the brow he showed
+that he was not indifferent.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger wore his slouched hat, tied under his chin
+and beard, a necessary precaution in that gale-swept country;
+on his feet to his knees were high boots. He wore
+a blue knitted jersey, and a red kerchief about his throat.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Cruel slightly slackened his pace, as the lane
+was narrow; and as he rode past his dark brow was
+knit, and his eyes flashed angrily at Judith. He deigned
+neither a glance nor a word to his housekeeper, who
+courtesied and assumed a fawning expression.</p>
+
+<p>When he had passed the two women he dug his spurs
+into Black Bess and muttered some words they did not
+hear.</p>
+
+<p>Judith, who had stood aside, now came forward into
+the midst of the roadway and rejoined her aunt, who
+began to say something, when her words and Judith&rsquo;s
+attention was arrested by shouts, oaths, and cries in
+their rear.</p>
+
+<p>Judith and her aunt turned to discover the occasion of
+this disturbance, and saw that Coppinger was off his
+horse, on his feet, dragging the brute by the rein, and
+was hurling his crop, or hunting-whip, as he pursued
+Jamie flying from him with cries of terror. But that
+he held the horse and could not keep up with the boy,
+Jamie would have suffered severely, for Coppinger was
+in a livid fury.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie flew to his sister.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Save me, Ju! he wants to kill me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What have you done?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is only the buttons.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Buttons, dear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the boy was too frightened to explain.</p>
+
+<p>Then Judith drew her brother behind her, took from
+him the basket he was carrying, and stepped to encounter
+the angry man, who came on, now struggling
+with his horse, cursing Bess because she drew back,
+then plunging forward with his whip above his head
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>36]</a></span>
+brandished menacingly, and by this conduct further
+alarmed Black Bess.</p>
+
+<p>Judith met Coppinger, and he was forced to stay his
+forward course.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What has he done?&rdquo; asked the girl. &ldquo;Why do you
+threaten?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The cursed idiot has strewn bits of glass and buttons
+along the road,&rdquo; answered the Captain, angrily. &ldquo;Stand
+aside that I may lash him, and teach him to frighten
+horses and endanger men&rsquo;s lives.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry for what Jamie has done. I will pick up
+the things he has thrown down.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Cruel Coppinger&rsquo;s eyes glistened with wrath. He
+gathered the lash of his whip into his palm along with
+the handle, and gripped them passionately.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Curse the fool! My Bess was frightened, dashed up
+the bank, and all but rolled over. Do you know he
+might have killed me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must excuse him; he is a very child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will not excuse him. I will cut the flesh off his
+back if I catch him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He put the end of the crop handle into his mouth,
+and, putting his right hand behind him, gathered the
+reins up shorter and wound them more securely about
+his left hand.</p>
+
+<p>Judith walked backward, facing him, and he turned
+with his horse and went after her. She stooped and
+gathered up a splinter of glass. The sun striking
+through the gaps in the hedge had flashed on these
+scraps of broken mirror and of white bone, or burnished
+brass buttons, and the horse had been frightened at
+them. As Judith stooped and took up now a buckle,
+then a button, and then some other shining trifle, she
+hardly for an instant withdrew her eyes from Coppinger;
+they had in them the same dauntless defiance as when
+she encountered him on the stairs of the rectory. But
+now it was she who retreated, step by step, and he who
+advanced, and yet he could not flatter himself that he
+was repelling her. She maintained her strength and
+mastery unbroken as she retreated.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why do you look at me so? Why do you walk backward?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because I mistrust you. I do not know what you
+might do were I not to confront you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>37]</a></span>
+&ldquo;What I might do? What do you think I would
+do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot tell. I mistrust you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think me capable of lashing at you with my
+crop?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you capable of anything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Flattering that!&rdquo; he shouted, angrily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You would have lashed at Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And why not? He might have killed me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He might have killed you, but you should not have
+touched him&mdash;not have thought of touching him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed! Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; She raised herself upright and looked
+straight into his eyes, in which fire flickered, flared,
+then decayed, then flared again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are no Dane, or you would not have asked &lsquo;Why
+not?&rsquo; twice. Nay, you would not have asked it once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a Dane?&rdquo; His beard and mustache were
+quivering, and he snorted with anger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A Dane, I have read in history, is too noble and brave
+to threaten women and to strike children.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He uttered an oath and ground his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; a Dane would never have thought of asking
+why not?&mdash;why not lash a poor little silly boy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You insult me! You dare to do it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her blood was surging in her heart. As she looked
+into this man&rsquo;s dark and evil face she thought of all the
+distress he had caused her father, and a wave of loathing
+swept over her, nerved her to defy him to the uttermost,
+and to proclaim all the counts she had against him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I dare do it,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;because you made my own
+dear papa&rsquo;s life full of bitterness and pain&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I! I never touched him, hardly spoke to him. I
+don&rsquo;t care to have to do with parsons.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You made his life one of sorrow through your godless,
+lawless ways, leading his poor flock astray, and bidding
+them mock at his warnings and despise his teachings.
+Almost with his last breath he spoke of you, and
+the wretchedness of heart you had caused him. And then
+you dared&mdash;yes&mdash;you dared&mdash;you dared to burst into our
+house where he lay dead, with shameful insolence to disturb
+its peace. And now&mdash;&rdquo; she gasped, &ldquo;and now, ah!
+you lie when you say you are a Dane, and talk of cutting
+and lashing the dead father&rsquo;s little boy on his father&rsquo;s
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>38]</a></span>
+burial day. You are but one thing I can name&mdash;a coward!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Did he mean it? No! But blinded, stung to madness
+by her words, especially that last, he raised his
+right arm with the crop.</p>
+
+<p>Did she mean it? No! But in the instinct of self-preservation,
+thinking he was about to strike her, she
+dashed the basket of buttons in his face, and they flew
+right and left over him, against the head of Black Bess,
+a rain of fragments of mirror, brass, steel, mother-of-pearl,
+and bone.</p>
+
+<p>The effect was instantaneous. The mare plunged,
+reared, threw Coppinger backward from off his feet,
+dashed him to the ground, dragged him this way, that
+way, bounded, still drawing him about by the twisted
+reins, into the hedge, then back, with her hoofs upon
+him, near, if not on, his head, his chest&mdash;then, released
+by the snap of the rein, or through its becoming disengaged,
+Bess darted down the lane, was again brought to
+a standstill by the glittering fragments on the ground,
+turned, rushed back in the direction whence she had
+come, and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Judith stood panting, paralyzed with fear and dismay.
+Was he dead, broken to pieces, pounded by those strong
+hoofs?</p>
+
+<p>He was not dead. He was rolling himself on the
+ground, struggling clumsily to his knees.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you satisfied?&rdquo; he shouted, glaring at her like
+a wild beast through his tangled black hair that had
+fallen over his face. &ldquo;I cannot strike you nor your
+brother now. My arm and the Lord knows what other
+bones are broken. You have done that&mdash;and I owe you
+something for it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>39]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER VI.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">UNCLE ZACHIE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The astonishment, the consternation of Mrs. Trevisa
+at what had occurred, which she could not fully comprehend,
+took from her the power to speak. She had seen
+her niece in conversation with Cruel Coppinger, and had
+caught snatches of what had passed between them. All
+his words had reached her, and some of Judith&rsquo;s. When,
+suddenly, she saw the girl dash the basket of buttons in
+the face of the Captain, saw him thrown to the ground,
+drawn about by his frantic horse, and left, as she thought,
+half dead, her dismay was unbounded. It might have
+been that Coppinger threatened Judith with his whip,
+but nothing could excuse her temerity in resisting him,
+in resisting him and protecting herself in the way she
+did. The consequences of that resistance she could not
+measure. Coppinger was bruised, bones were broken,
+and Aunt Dionysia knew the nature of the man too well
+not to expect his deadly animosity, and to feel sure of
+implacable revenge against the girl who had injured him&mdash;a
+revenge that would envelop all who belonged to her,
+and would therefore strike herself.</p>
+
+<p>The elderly spinster had naturally plenty of strength
+and hardness that would bear her through most shocks
+without discomposure, but such an incident as that which
+had just taken place before her eyes entirely unnerved
+and dismayed her.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger was conveyed home by men called to the
+spot, and Mrs. Trevisa walked on with her niece and
+nephew in silence to the house of Mr. Zachary Menaida.
+Jamie had escaped over the hedge, to put a stone-and-earth
+barrier between himself and his assailant directly
+Judith interposed between him and Coppinger. Now
+that the latter was gone, he came, laughing, over the
+hedge again. To him what had occurred was fun.</p>
+
+<p>At Menaida&rsquo;s the aunt departed, leaving her nephew
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>40]</a></span>
+and niece with the old man, that she might hurry to
+Pentyre Glaze and provide what was needed for Coppinger.
+She took no leave of Judith. In the haze of apprehension
+that enveloped her mind glowed anger against
+the girl for having increased her difficulties and jeopardized
+her position with Coppinger.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Zachary Menaida was an old man, or rather a man
+who had passed middle age, with grizzled hair that
+stood up above his brow, projecting like the beak of a
+ship or the horn of an unicorn. He had a big nose inclined
+to redness, and kindly, watery eyes, was close
+shaven, and had lips that, whenever he was in perplexity,
+or worried with work or thought, he thrust forward
+and curled. He was a middle-statured man, inclined
+to stoop.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zachie, as he was commonly called behind his
+back, was a gentleman by birth. In the Roman Catholic
+Church there is a religious order called that of Minims.
+In England we have, perhaps, the most widely-diffused
+of orders, not confined to religion&mdash;it is that of Crotchets.
+To this order Mr. Menaida certainly belonged. He was
+made up of hobbies and prejudices that might bore, but
+never hurt others.</p>
+
+<p>Probably the most difficult achievement one can conceive
+for a man to execute is to stand in his own light;
+yet Mr. Menaida had succeeded in doing this all through
+his life. In the first place, he had been bred up for the
+law, but had never applied himself to the duties of the
+profession to which he had been articled. As he had
+manifested as a boy a love of music, his mother and sister
+had endeavored to make him learn to play on an instrument;
+but, because so urged, he had refused to
+qualify himself to play on pianoforte, violin, or flute,
+till his fingers had stiffened, whereupon he set to work
+zealously to practise, when it was no longer possible for
+him to acquire even tolerable proficiency.</p>
+
+<p>As he had been set by his father to work on skins of
+parchment, he turned his mind to skins of another sort,
+and became an eager naturalist and taxidermist.</p>
+
+<p>That he had genius, or rather a few scattered sparks
+of talent in his muddled brain, was certain. Every one
+who knew him said he was clever, but pitied his inability
+to turn his cleverness to purpose. But one must take
+into consideration, before accepting the general verdict
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>41]</a></span>
+that he was clever, the intellectual abilities of those who
+formed this judgment. When we do this, we doubt much
+whether their opinion is worth much. Mr. Menaida was
+not clever. He had flashes of wit, no steady light of
+understanding. Above all, he had no application, a little
+of which might have made him a useful member of society.</p>
+
+<p>When his articleship was over he set up as a solicitor,
+but what business was offered him he neglected or mismanaged,
+till business ceased to be offered. He would
+have starved had not a small annuity of fifty pounds
+been left him to keep the wolf from the door, and that
+he was able to supplement this small income with money
+made by the sale of his stuffed specimens of sea-fowl.
+Taxidermy was the only art in which he was able to do
+anything profitable. He loved to observe the birds, to
+wander on the cliffs listening to their cries, watching
+their flight, their positions when at rest, the undulations
+in their feathers under the movement of the muscles
+as they turned their heads or raised their feet; and
+when he set himself to stuff the skins he was able to imitate
+the postures and appearance of living birds with rare
+fidelity. Consequently his specimens were in request,
+and ornithologists and country gentlemen whose game-keepers
+had shot rare birds desired to have the skins
+dealt with, and set in cases, by the dexterous fingers of
+Mr. Zachary Menaida. He might have done more work
+of the same kind, but that his ingrained inactivity and
+distaste for work limited his output. In certain
+cases Mr. Menaida would not do what was desired of him till
+coaxed and flattered, and then he did it grumblingly and
+with sighs at being subjected to killing toil.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida was a widower; his married life had not
+been long; he had been left with a son, now grown to
+manhood, who was no longer at home. He was abroad,
+in Portugal, in the service of a Bristol merchant, an importer
+of wines.</p>
+
+<p>As already said, Uncle Zachie did not begin the drudgery
+of music till it was too late for him to acquire skill
+on any instrument. His passion for music grew with
+his inability to give himself pleasure from it. He occupied
+a double cottage at Polzeath, and a hole knocked
+through the wall that had separated the lower rooms
+enabled him to keep his piano in one room and his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>42]</a></span>
+bird-stuffing apparatus in the other, and to run from one to
+the other in his favorite desultory way, that never permitted
+him to stick to one thing at a time.</p>
+
+<p>Into this house Judith and her brother were introduced.
+Mr. Menaida had been attached to the late rector,
+the only other gentleman in culture, as in birth, that
+lived in the place, and when he was told by Miss&mdash;or, as
+she was usually called, Mrs.&mdash;Trevisa that the children
+must leave the parsonage and be put temporarily with
+some one suitable, and that no other suitable house was
+available, he consented without making much objection
+to receive them into his cottage. He was a kindly man,
+gentle at heart, and he was touched at the bereavement
+of the children whom he had known since they were infants.</p>
+
+<p>After the first salutation Mr. Menaida led Judith and
+the boy into his parlor, the room opening out of his
+workshop.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;what is that?&rdquo; He pointed to
+his piano.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A piano, sir,&rdquo; answered Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;and mind you, I hate strumming, though I
+love music. When I am in, engaged at my labors, no
+strumming. I come in here now and then as relaxation,
+and run over this and that; then, refreshed, go back to
+my work, but, if there is any strumming, I shall be put
+out. I shall run my knife or needle into my hand, and it
+will upset me for the day. You understand&mdash;no strumming.
+When I am out, then you may touch the keys,
+but only when I am out. You understand clearly? Say
+the words after me: &lsquo;I allow no strumming.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith did as required. The same was exacted of
+Jamie. Then Mr. Menaida said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well; now we shall have a dish of tea. I daresay
+you are tired. Dear me, you look so. Goodness
+bless me! indeed you do. What has tired you has been
+the trial you have gone through. Poor things, poor
+things! There, go to your rooms; my maid, Jump, will
+show you where they are, and I will see about making tea.
+It will do you good. You want it. I see it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The kind-hearted man ran about.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless my soul! where have I put the key of the
+caddy? And&mdash;really&mdash;my fingers are all over arsenical
+soap. I think I will leave Jump to make the tea. Jump,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>43]</a></span>
+have you seen where I put the key? Bless my soul!
+where did I have it last? Never mind; I will break
+open the caddy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please, Mr. Menaida, do not do that for us. We can
+very well wait till the key is found.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! I don&rsquo;t know when that will be. I shall have
+forgotten about it if I do not find the key at once, or
+break open the caddy. But, if you prefer it, I have
+some cherry-brandy, or I would give you some milk-punch.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;no, indeed, Mr. Menaida.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But Jamie&mdash;I am sure he looks tired. A little cherry-brandy
+to draw the threads in him together. And suffer
+me, though not a doctor, to recommend it to you. Bless
+my soul! my fingers are all over arsenical soap. If I
+don&rsquo;t have some cherry-brandy myself I shall have the
+arsenic get into my system. I hope you have no cuts or
+scratches on your hand. I forgot the arsenic when I
+shook hands with you. Now, look here, Jump, bring in
+the saffron cake, and I will cut them each a good hunch.
+It will do you good, on my word it will. I have not
+spared either figs or saffron, and then&mdash;I will help you,
+as I love you. Come and see my birds. That is a cormorant&mdash;a
+splendid fellow&mdash;looks as if run out of metal,
+all his plumage, you know, and in the attitude as if swallowing
+a fish. Do you see!&mdash;the morsel is going down
+his throat. And&mdash;how much luggage have you? Jump!
+show the young lady where she can put away her gowns
+and all that sort of thing. Oh, not come yet? All right&mdash;a
+lady and her dresses are not long parted. They will
+be here soon. Now, then. What will you have?&mdash;some
+cold beef&mdash;and cider? Upon my soul!&mdash;you must excuse
+me. I was just wiring that kittiwake. Excuse
+me&mdash;I shall be ready in a moment. In the meantime
+there are books&mdash;Rollin&rsquo;s &lsquo;Ancient History,&rsquo; a very
+reliable book. No&mdash;upon my word, my mind is distracted.
+I cannot get that kittiwake right without a
+glass of port. I have some good port. Oliver guarantees
+it&mdash;from Portugal, you know. He is there&mdash;first-rate
+business, and will make his fortune, which is more
+than his father ever did.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida went to a closet, and produced a bottle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come here, Jamie. I know what is good for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;please, Mr. Menaida, do not. He has not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>44]</a></span>
+been accustomed to anything of the sort. Please not,
+sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fudge!&rdquo; said Uncle Zachie, holding up a glass and
+pouring cherry-brandy into it. &ldquo;What is your age?&mdash;seventeen
+or eighteen, and I am fifty-two. I have over
+thirty years&rsquo; more experience of the world than you.
+Jamie, don&rsquo;t be tied to your sister&rsquo;s apron-string. I
+know what is best for you. Girls drink water, men
+something better. Come here, Jamie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir&mdash;I beseech you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless my soul! I know what is good for him.
+Come to me, Jamie. Look the other way, Judith, if I
+cannot persuade you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith sighed, and covered her face with her hands.
+There was to be no help, no support in Uncle Zachie.
+On the contrary, he would break down her power over
+Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;if you love me, go up-stairs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Presently, Ju. I want that first.&rdquo; And he took it,
+ran to his sister, and said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is good, Ju!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have disobeyed me, Jamie&mdash;that is bad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She stood on the threshold of further trouble, and she
+knew it.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>45]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER VII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A VISIT.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>No sleep visited Judith&rsquo;s eyes that night till the first
+streaks of dawn appeared, though she was weary, and
+her frail body and over-exerted brain needed the refreshment
+of sleep. But sleep she could not, for cares were
+gathering upon her.</p>
+
+<p>She had often heard her father, when speaking of Mr.
+Menaida, lament that he was not a little more self-controlled
+in his drinking. It was not that the old fellow
+ever became inebriated, but that he hankered after the
+bottle, and was wont to take a nip continually to strengthen
+his nerves, steady his hand, or clear his brain.
+There was ever ready some excuse satisfactory to his
+own conscience; and it was due to these incessant applications
+to the bottle that his hand shook, his eyes became
+watery, and his nose red. It was a danger Judith
+must guard against, lest this trick should be picked up
+by the childish Jamie, always apt to imitate what he
+should not, and acquire habits easily gained, hardly
+broken, that were harmful to himself. Uncle Zachie, in
+his good-nature, would lead the boy after him into the
+same habits that marred his own life.</p>
+
+<p>This was one thought that worked like a mole all
+night in Judith&rsquo;s brain; but she had other troubles as
+well to keep her awake. She was alarmed at the consequences
+of her conduct in the lane. She wondered
+whether Coppinger were more seriously hurt than had
+at first appeared. She asked herself whether she had
+not acted wrongly when she acted inconsiderately,
+whether in her precipitation to protect herself she had
+not misjudged Coppinger, whether, if he had attempted
+to strike her, it would not have been a lesser evil to receive
+the blow, than to ward it off in such a manner as
+to break his bones. Knowing by report the character
+of the man, she feared that she had incurred his deadly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>46]</a></span>
+animosity. He could not, that she could see, hurt herself
+in the execution of his resentment, but he might
+turn her aunt out of his house. That she had affronted
+her aunt she was aware; Mrs. Trevisa&rsquo;s manner in parting
+with her had shown that with sufficient plainness.</p>
+
+<p>A strange jumble of sounds on the piano startled Judith.
+Her first thought and fear were that her brother
+had gone to the instrument, and was amusing himself
+on the keys. But on listening attentively she was
+aware that there was sufficient sequence in the notes to
+make it certain that the performer was a musician,
+though lacking in facility of execution. She descended
+the stairs and entered the little sitting-room. Uncle
+Zachie was seated on the music-stool, and was endeavoring
+to play a sonata of Beethoven that was vastly beyond
+the capacity of his stiff-jointed fingers. Whenever
+he made a false note he uttered a little grunt and
+screwed up his eyes, endeavored to play the bar again,
+and perhaps accomplish it only to break down in the
+next.</p>
+
+<p>Judith did not venture to interrupt him. She took up
+some knitting, and seated herself near the piano, where
+he might see her without her disturbing him. He
+raised his brows, grunted, floundered into false harmony,
+and exclaimed, &ldquo;Bless me! how badly they do print music
+nowadays. Who, without the miraculous powers of
+a prophet, could tell that B should be natural?&rdquo; Then,
+turning his head over his shoulder, addressed Judith,
+&ldquo;Good-morning, missie. Are you fond of music?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, very.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you think. Everyone says he or she is fond of
+music, because that person can hammer out a psalm
+tune or play the &lsquo;Rogue&rsquo;s March.&rsquo; I hate to hear those
+who call themselves musical strum on a piano. They
+can&rsquo;t feel, they only execute.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But they can play their notes correctly,&rdquo; said Judith,
+and then flushed with vexation at having made this
+pointed and cutting remark. But it did not cause Mr.
+Menaida to wince.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What of that? I give not a thank-you for mere
+literal music-reading. Call Jump, set &lsquo;Shakespeare&rsquo;
+before her, and she will hammer out a scene&mdash;correctly
+as to words; but where is the sense? Where the life?
+You must play with the spirit and play with the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>47]</a></span>
+understanding also, as you must read with the spirit and read
+with the understanding also. It is the same thing with
+bird-stuffing. Any fool can ram tow into a skin and
+thrust wires into the neck, but what is the result?
+You must stuff birds with the spirit and stuff with the
+understanding also&mdash;or it is naught.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose it is the same with everything one does&mdash;one
+must do it heartily and intelligently.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Exactly! Now you should see my boy, Oliver.
+Have you ever met him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think I have; but, to be truthful, I do not recollect
+him, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will bring you his likeness&mdash;in miniature. It is
+in the next room.&rdquo; Up jumped Mr. Menaida, and ran
+through the opening in the wall, and returned in another
+moment with the portrait, and gave it into Judith&rsquo;s
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A fine fellow is Oliver! Look at his nose how
+straight it is. Not like mine&mdash;that is a pump-handle.
+He got his good looks from his mother, not from me.
+Ah!&rdquo; He reseated himself at the piano, and ran&mdash;incorrectly&mdash;over
+a scale. &ldquo;It is all the pleasure I have
+in life, to think of my boy, and to look at his picture,
+and read his letters, and drink the port he sends me&mdash;first-rate
+stuff. He writes admirable letters, and never
+a month passes but I receive one. It would come expensive
+if he wrote direct, so his letter is enclosed in the
+business papers sent to the house at Bristol, and they
+forward it to me. You shall read his last&mdash;out loud. It
+will give me a pleasure to hear it read by you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I read properly, Mr. Menaida&mdash;with the spirit and
+with the understanding.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Exactly! But you could not fail to do that looking
+at the cheerful face in the miniature, and reading his
+words&mdash;pleasant and bright as himself. Pity you have
+not seen him; well, that makes something to live for.
+He has dark hair and blue eyes&mdash;not often met together,
+and when associated, very refreshing. Wait! I&rsquo;ll go
+after the letter: only, bless my soul! where is it?
+What coat did I have on when I read it? I&rsquo;ll call Jump.
+She may remember. Wait! do you recall this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stumbled over something on the keys which might
+have been anything.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is Haydn. I will tell you what I think: Mozart I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>48]</a></span>
+delight in as a companion; Beethoven I revere as a master;
+but Haydn I love as a friend. You were about to
+say something?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith had set an elbow on the piano and put her
+hand to her head, her fingers through the hair, and was
+looking into Uncle Zachie&rsquo;s face with an earnestness he
+could not mistake. She did desire to say something
+to him; but if she waited till he gave her an opportunity
+she might wait a long time. He jumped from one
+subject to another with alacrity, and with rapid forgetfulness
+of what he was last speaking about.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, sir, I am so very, very grateful to you for having
+received us into your snug little house&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You like it? Well, I only pay seven pounds for it.
+Cheap, is it not? Two cottages&mdash;laborers&rsquo; cottages&mdash;thrown
+together. Well, I might go farther and fare
+worse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And, Mr. Menaida, I venture to ask you another favor,
+which, if you will grant me, you will lay me under
+an eternal obligation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may command me, my dear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is only this: not to let Jamie have anything
+stronger than a glass of cider. I do not mind his having
+that; but a boy like him does not need what is, no
+doubt, wanted by you who are getting old. I am so
+afraid of the habit growing on him of looking for and
+liking what is too strong for him. He is such a child,
+so easily led, and so unable to control himself. It may
+be a fancy, a prejudice of mine&rdquo;&mdash;she passed her nervous
+hand over her face&mdash;&ldquo;I do hope I am not offending you,
+dear Mr. Menaida; but I know Jamie so well, and I know
+how carefully he must be watched and checked. If it
+be a silly fancy of mine&mdash;and perhaps it is only a silly
+fancy&mdash;yet,&rdquo; she put on a pleading tone, &ldquo;you will humor
+me in this, will you not, Mr. Menaida?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless my soul! you have only to express a wish and
+I will fulfil it. For myself, you must know, I am a little
+weak; I feel a chill when the wind turns north or east,
+and am always relaxed when it is in the south or west;
+that forces me to take something just to save me from
+serious inconvenience, you understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh quite, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And then&mdash;confound it!&mdash;I am goaded on to work
+when disinclined. Why, there&rsquo;s a letter come to me now
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>49]</a></span>
+from Plymouth&mdash;a naturalist there, asking for more
+birds; and what can I do? I slave, I am at it all day,
+half the night; I have no time to eat or sleep. I was
+not born to stuff birds. I take it as an amusement, a
+pastime, and it is converted into a toil. I must brace
+up my exhausted frame; it is necessary to my health,
+you understand!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, Mr. Menaida. And you really will humor
+my childish whim?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, you may rely on me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is one thing I wanted to say. You see, sir, we
+have but just come into your house, and already, last
+night, Jamie was tempted to disobey me, and take what
+I thought unadvisable, so&mdash;I have been turning it over
+and over in my head&mdash;I thought I would like to come to
+a clear understanding with you, Mr. Menaida. It seems
+ungracious in me, but you must pity me. I have now
+all responsibility for Jamie on my head, and I have to
+do what my conscience tells me I should do; only, I pray
+you, do not take offence at what I have said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fudge! my dear; you are right, I dare say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now that I have your promise&mdash;I have that, have
+I not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now I want your opinion, if you will kindly give it
+me. I have no father, no mother, to go to for advice;
+and so I venture to appeal to you&mdash;it is about Captain
+Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger!&rdquo; repeated Uncle Zachie, screwing
+up his brows and mouth. &ldquo;Umph! He is a bold
+man who can give help against Captain Coppinger, and
+a strong man as well as bold. How has he wronged
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! he has not wronged me. It is I who have hurt
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&mdash;you!&rdquo; Uncle Zachie laughed. &ldquo;A little creature
+such as you could not hurt Captain Cruel!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, indeed, I have; I have thrown him down and
+broken his arms and some of his bones.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&mdash;you?&rdquo; Uncle Zachie&rsquo;s face of astonishment and dismay
+was so comical that Judith, in spite of her anxiety
+and exhaustion, smiled; but the smile was without
+brightness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And pray, how in the name of wonder did you do
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>50]</a></span>
+that? Upon my word, you will deserve the thanks of
+the Preventive men. They have no love for him; they
+have old scores they would gladly wipe off with a broken
+arm, or, better still, a cracked skull. And pray how did
+you do this? With the flour-roller?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir, I will tell you the whole story.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then, in its true sequence, with great clearness, she
+related the entire narrative of events. She told how her
+father, even with his last breath, had spoken of Coppinger
+as the man who had troubled his life by marring his
+work; how that the Captain had entered the parsonage
+without ceremony when her dear father was lying dead
+up-stairs, and how he had called there boisterously for
+Aunt Dionysia because he wanted something of her.
+She told the old man how that her own feelings had been
+wrought, by this affront, into anger against Coppinger.
+Then she related the incident in the lane, and how that,
+when he raised his arm against her, she had dashed the
+buttons into his face, frightened his horse, and so produced
+an accident that might have cost the Captain his
+life.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless my soul!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Menaida, &ldquo;and what
+do you want? Is it an assault? I will run to my law-books
+and find out; I don&rsquo;t know that it can quite be
+made out a case of misadventure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not that, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then what do you want?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been racking my head to think what I ought
+to do under the circumstances. There can be no doubt
+that I aggravated him. I was very angry, both because
+he had been a trouble to my darling papa, and then because
+he had been so insolent as to enter our house and
+shout for Aunt Dunes; but there was something more&mdash;he
+had tried to beat Jamie, and it was my father&rsquo;s day
+of burial. All that roused a bad spirit in me, and I did
+say very bad words to him&mdash;words a man of metal would
+not bear from even a child, and I suppose I really did
+lash him to madness, and he would have struck me&mdash;but
+perhaps not, he might have thought better of it. I provoked
+him, and then I brought about what happened.
+I have been considering what I ought to do. If I remain
+here and take no notice, then he will think me very unfeeling,
+and that I do not care that I have hurt him in
+mind and body. It came into my head last night that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>51]</a></span>
+I would ask aunt to apologize to him for what I had
+done, or, better still, should aunt not come here to-day,
+which is very likely, that I might walk with Jamie to
+Pentyre and inquire how Captain Coppinger is, and send
+in word by my aunt that I am sorry&mdash;very sorry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Upon my soul, I don&rsquo;t know what to say. I could
+not have done this to Coppinger myself for a good deal
+of money. I think if I had, I would get out of the place
+as quickly as possible, while he was crippled by his
+broken bones. But then, you are a girl, and he may
+take it better from you than from me. Well&mdash;yes; I
+think it would be advisable to allay his anger if you can.
+Upon my word, you have put yourself into a difficult
+position. I&rsquo;ll go and look at my law-books, just for my
+own satisfaction.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A heavy blow on the door, and without waiting for a
+response and invitation to enter, it was thrown open,
+and there entered Cruel Coppinger, his arm bandaged,
+tied in splints, and bound to his body, with his heavy
+walking-stick brandished by the uninjured hand. He
+stood for a moment glowering in, searching the room
+with his keen eyes till they rested on Judith. Then he
+made an attempt to raise his hand to his head, but
+ineffectually.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Curse it!&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I cannot do it; don&rsquo;t tear it
+off my head with your eyes, girl. Here, you Menaida,
+come here and take my hat off. Come instantly, or
+she&mdash;she will do&mdash;the devil knows what she will not do
+to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He turned, and with his stick beat the door back,
+that it slammed behind him.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>52]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A PATCHED PEACE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look at her!&rdquo; cried Coppinger, with his back against
+the house door, and pointing to Judith with his stick.</p>
+
+<p>She was standing near the piano, with one hand on
+it, and was half turned toward him. She was in black,
+but had a white kerchief about her neck. The absence
+of all color in her dress heightened the lustre of her
+abundant and glowing hair.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger remained for a moment, pointing with a
+half sneer on his dark face. Mr. Menaida had nervously
+complied with his demand, and had removed the hat
+from the smuggler, and his dark hair fell about his face.
+That face was livid and pale; he had evidently suffered
+much, and now every movement was attended with pain.
+Not only had some of his bones been broken, but he was
+bruised and strained.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look at her!&rdquo; he shouted again, in his deep commanding
+tones, and he fixed his fierce eyes on her and
+knitted his brows. She remained immovable, awaiting
+what he had to say. Though there was a flutter in her
+bosom, her hand on the piano did not shake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am very sorry, Captain Coppinger,&rdquo; said Judith, in
+a low, sweet voice, in which there was but a slight tremulousness.
+&ldquo;I profess that I believe I acted wrongly
+yesterday, and I repeat that I am sorry&mdash;very sorry, Captain
+Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He made no reply. He lowered the stick that had
+been pointed at her, and leaned on it. His hand shook
+because he was in pain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I acted wrongly yesterday,&rdquo; continued Judith, &ldquo;but
+I acted under provocation that, if it does not justify
+what I did, palliates the wrong. I can say no more&mdash;that
+is the exact truth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is that all?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry for what was wrong in my conduct&mdash;frankly
+sorry that you are hurt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>53]</a></span>
+&ldquo;You hear her?&rdquo; laughed Coppinger, bitterly. &ldquo;A
+little chit like that to speak to me thus&rdquo;&mdash;then, turning
+sharply on her, &ldquo;Are you not afraid?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I am not afraid; why should I be?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why? Ask any one in S. Enodoc&mdash;any one in Cornwall&mdash;who
+has heard my name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon. I do not want to ask any one
+else in S. Enodoc, any one else in Cornwall. I ask you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Me? You ask me why you should be afraid of me?&rdquo;
+He paused, drew his thick brows together till they
+formed a band across his forehead. &ldquo;I tell you that none
+has ever wronged me by a blade of grass or a flock of
+wool but has paid for it a thousand-fold. And none has
+ever hurt me as you have done&mdash;none has ever dared to
+attempt it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have said that I am sorry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You talk like one cold as a mermaid. I do not believe
+in your fearlessness. Why do you lean on the
+piano. There, touch the wires with the very tips of your
+fingers, and let me hear if they give a sound&mdash;and sound
+they will if you tremble.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith exposed some of the wires by raising the top
+of the piano. Then she smiled, and stood with the tips
+of her delicate fingers just touching the chords. Coppinger
+listened, so did Uncle Zachie, and not a vibration
+could they detect.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she withdrew her hand, and said, &ldquo;Is not
+that enough? When a girl says, &lsquo;I am sorry,&rsquo; I supposed
+the chapter was done and the book closed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have strange ideas.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have those in which I was brought up by the best
+of fathers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger thrust his stick along the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it due to the ideas in which you have been brought
+up that you are not afraid&mdash;when you have reduced me
+to a wreck?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you?&mdash;are you afraid of the wreck that you have
+made?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The dark blood sprang into and suffused his whole
+face. Uncle Zachie drew back against the wall and made
+signs to Judith not to provoke their self-invited visitor;
+but she was looking steadily at the Captain, and did not
+observe the signals. In Coppinger&rsquo;s presence she felt
+nerved to stand on the defensive, and more, to attack. A
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>54]</a></span>
+threat in his whole bearing, in his manner of addressing
+her, roused every energy she possessed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I tell you,&rdquo; said he, harshly, &ldquo;if any man had used the
+word you threw at me yesterday, I would have murdered
+him; I would have split his skull with the handle of my
+crop.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You raised your hand to do it to me,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; he exclaimed, violently. &ldquo;It is false; come
+here, and let me see if you have the courage, the fearlessness
+you affect. You women are past-masters of dissembling.
+Come here; kneel before me and let me raise
+my stick over you. See; there is lead in the handle, and
+with one blow I can split your skull and dash the brains
+over the floor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith remained immovable.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought it&mdash;you are afraid.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>He let himself, with some pain, slowly into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are afraid. You know what to expect. Ah! I
+could fell you and trample on you and break your bones,
+as I was cast down, trampled on, and broken in my bones
+yesterday&mdash;by you, or through you. Are you afraid?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She took a step toward him. Then Uncle Zachie
+waved her back, in great alarm. He caught Judith&rsquo;s attention,
+and she answered him, &ldquo;I am not afraid. I gave
+him a word I should not have given him yesterday. I
+will show him that I retract it fully.&rdquo; Then she stepped
+up to Coppinger and sank on her knees before him. He
+raised his whip, with the loaded handle, brandishing it
+over her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now I am here,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I again ask your forgiveness,
+but I protest an apology is due to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He threw his stick away. &ldquo;By heaven, it is!&rdquo; Then
+in an altered tone, &ldquo;Take it so, that I ask your forgiveness.
+Get up; do not kneel to me. I could not have
+struck you down had I willed, my arm is stiff. Perhaps
+you knew it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He rose with effort to his feet again. Judith drew
+back to her former position by the piano, two hectic
+spots of flame were in her cheek, and her eyes were preternaturally
+bright.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger looked steadily at her for a while, then he
+said, &ldquo;Are you ill? You look as if you were.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have had much to go through of late.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>55]</a></span>
+&ldquo;True.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He remained looking at her, brooding over something
+in his mind. She perplexed him; he wondered at her.
+He could not comprehend the spirit that was in her, that
+sustained a delicate little frame, and made her defy him.</p>
+
+<p>His eyes wandered round the room, and he signed to
+Uncle Zachie to give him his stick again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; said he, pointing to the miniature on
+the stand for music, where Mr. Menaida had put it, over
+a sheet of the music he had been playing, or attempting
+to play.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is my son, Oliver,&rdquo; said Uncle Zachie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why is it there? Has she been looking at it? Let
+me see it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida hesitated, but presently handed it to the
+redoubted Captain, with nervous twitches in his face.
+&ldquo;I value it highly&mdash;my only child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger looked at it, with a curl of his lips; then
+handed it back to Mr. Menaida.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why is it here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I brought it here to show it her. I am very proud
+of my son,&rdquo; said Uncle Zachie.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger was in an irritable mood, captious about
+trifles. Why did he ask questions about this little
+picture? Why look suspiciously at Judith as he did so&mdash;suspiciously
+and threateningly?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you play on the piano?&rdquo; asked Coppinger.
+&ldquo;When the evil spirit was on Saul, David struck the harp
+and sent the spirit away. Let me hear how you can
+touch the notes. It may do me good. Heaven knows it
+is not often I have the leisure, or the occasion, or am in
+the humor for music. I would hear what you can do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith looked at Uncle Zachie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot play,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;that is to say, I can play,
+but not now, and on this piano.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Menaida interfered and urged her to play.
+He was afraid of Coppinger.</p>
+
+<p>She seated herself on the music-stool and considered
+for a moment. The miniature was again on the stand.
+Coppinger put out his stick and thrust it off, and it
+would have fallen had not Judith caught it. She gave it
+to Mr. Menaida, who hastily carried it into the adjoining
+room, where the sight of it might no longer irritate the
+Captain.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>56]</a></span>
+&ldquo;What shall I play? I mean, strum?&rdquo; asked Judith,
+looking at Uncle Zachie. &ldquo;Beethoven! No&mdash;Haydn.
+Here are his &lsquo;Seasons.&rsquo; I can play &lsquo;Spring.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had a light, but firm touch. Her father had been
+a man of great musical taste, and he had instructed her.
+But she had, moreover, the musical faculty in her, and
+she played with the spirit and with the understanding
+also. Wondrous is the power of music, passing that of
+fabled necromancy. It takes a man up out of his most
+sordid surroundings, and sets him in heavenly places.
+It touches fibres of the inner nature, lost, forgotten,
+ignored, and makes them thrill with a new life. It
+seals the eyes to outward sights, and unfurls new vistas
+full of transcendental beauty; it breathes over hot
+wounds and heals them; it calls to the surface springs
+of pure delight, and bids them gush forth in an arid
+desert.</p>
+
+<p>It was so now, as, under the sympathetic fingers of
+Judith, Haydn&rsquo;s song of the &ldquo;Spring&rdquo; was sung. A
+May world arose in that little dingy room; the walls
+fell back and disclosed green woods thick with red robin
+and bursting bluebells, fields golden with buttercups,
+hawthorns clothed in flower, from which sang the blackbird,
+thrush, the finch, and the ouzel. The low ceiling
+rose and overarched as the speed-well blue vault of
+heaven, the close atmosphere was dispelled by a waft of
+crisp, pure air; shepherds piped, Boy Blue blew his
+horn, and milkmaids rattled their pails and danced a
+ballet on the turf; and over all, down into every corner
+of the soul, streamed the glorious, golden sun, filling the
+heart with gladness.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zachie had been standing at the door leading
+into his workshop, hesitating whether to remain, with a
+pish! and a pshaw! or to fly away beyond hearing.
+But he was arrested, then drawn lightly, irresistibly,
+step by step, toward the piano, and he noiselessly sank
+upon a chair, with his eyes fixed on Judith&rsquo;s fingers as
+they danced over the keys. His features assumed a
+more refined character as he listened; the water rose
+into his eyes, his lips quivered, and when, before reaching
+the end of the piece, Judith faltered and stopped, he
+laid his hand on her wrist and said: &ldquo;My dear&mdash;you
+play, you do not strum. Play when you will&mdash;never can
+it be too long, too much for me. It may steady my
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>57]</a></span>
+hand, it may dispel the chill and the damp better than&mdash;but
+never mind&mdash;never mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Why had Judith failed to accomplish the piece?
+Whilst engaged on the notes she had felt that the
+searching, beaming eyes of the smuggler were on her,
+fixed with fierce intensity. She could meet them, looking
+straight at him, without shrinking, and without confusion,
+but to be searched by them whilst off her guard,
+her attention engaged on her music, was what she could
+not endure.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger made no remark on what he had heard, but
+his face gave token that the music had not swept across
+him without stirring and softening his hard nature.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How long is she to be here with you?&rdquo; he asked,
+turning to Uncle Zachie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain, I cannot tell. She and her brother had to
+leave the rectory. They could not remain in that house
+alone. Mrs. Trevisa asked me to lodge them here, and
+I consented. I knew their father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She did not ask me. I would have taken them in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps she was diffident of doing that,&rdquo; said Uncle
+Zachie. &ldquo;But really, on my word, it is no inconvenience
+to me. I have room in this house, and my maid, Jump,
+has not enough to do to attend on me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When you are tired of them send them to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not likely to be tired of Judith, now that I have
+heard her play.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith&mdash;is that her name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;Judith.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith!&rdquo; he repeated, and thrust his stick along the
+floor, meditatively. &ldquo;Judith!&rdquo; Then, after a pause,
+with his eyes on the ground, &ldquo;Why did not your aunt
+speak to me! Why does she not love you?&mdash;she does
+not, I know. Why did she not go to see you when
+your father was alive! Why did you not come to the
+Glaze?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear papa did not wish me to go to your house,&rdquo;
+said Judith, answering one of his many questions, the
+last, and perhaps the easiest to reply to.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; he glanced up at her, then down on the
+floor again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa was not very pleased with Aunt Dunes&mdash;it was
+no fault on either side, only a misunderstanding,&rdquo; said
+Judith.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>58]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Why did he not let you come to my house to salute
+your aunt?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith hesitated. He again looked up at her searchingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you really must know the truth, Captain Coppinger,
+papa thought your house was hardly one to
+which to send two children&mdash;it was said to harbor such
+wild folk.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And he did not know how fiercely and successfully
+you could defend yourself against wild folk,&rdquo; said Coppinger,
+with a harsh laugh. &ldquo;It is we wild men that
+must fear you, for you dash us about and bruise and
+break us when displeased with our ways. We are not so
+bad at the Glaze as we are painted, not by a half&mdash;here
+is my hand on it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith was still seated on the music-stool, her hands
+resting in her lap. Coppinger came toward her, walking
+stiffly, and extending his palm.</p>
+
+<p>She looked down in her lap. What did this fierce,
+strange man, mean?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you give me your hand?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Is there
+peace between us?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was doubtful what to say. He remained, awaiting
+her answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I really do not know what reply to make,&rdquo; she said,
+after awhile. &ldquo;Of course, so far as I&rsquo;m concerned, it is
+peace. I have myself no quarrel with you, and you are
+good enough to say that you forgive me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then why not peace?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again she let him wait before answering. She was
+uneasy and unhappy. She wanted neither his goodwill
+nor his hostility.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In all that affects me, I bear you no ill-will,&rdquo; she
+said, in a low, tremulous voice; &ldquo;but in that you were a
+grief to my dear, dear father, discouraging his heart, I
+cannot be forgetful, and so full of charity as to blot it
+out as though it had not been.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then let it be a patched peace&mdash;a peace with evasions
+and reservations. Better that than none. Give
+me your hand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On that understanding,&rdquo; said Judith, and laid her
+hand in his. His iron fingers closed round it, and he
+drew her up from the stool on which she sat, drew her
+forward near the window, and thrust her in front of him.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>59]</a></span>
+Then he raised her hand, held it by the wrist, and looked
+at it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is very small, very weak,&rdquo; he said, musingly.</p>
+
+<p>Then there rushed over her mind the recollection of
+her last conversation with her father. He, too, had
+taken and looked at her hand, and had made the same
+remark.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger lowered her hand and his, and, looking at
+her, said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are very wonderful to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;why so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He did not answer, but let go his hold of her, and
+turned away to the door.</p>
+
+<p>Judith saw that he was leaving, and she hastened
+to bring him his stick, and she opened the door for
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thank you,&rdquo; he said, turned, pointed his stick at
+her, and added, &ldquo;It is peace&mdash;though a patched one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>60]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER IX.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">C.&nbsp;C.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Days ensued, not of rest to body, but of relaxation to
+mind. Judith&rsquo;s overstrained nerves had now given
+them a period of numbness, a sleep of sensibility with
+occasional turnings and wakenings, in which they recovered
+their strength. She and Jamie were settled
+into their rooms at Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s, and the hours were
+spent in going to and from the rectory removing their
+little treasures to the new home&mdash;if a temporary place
+of lodging could be called a home&mdash;and in arranging
+them there.</p>
+
+<p>There were a good many farewells to be taken, and
+Judith marvelled sometimes at the insensibility with
+which she said them&mdash;farewells to a thousand nooks and
+corners of the house and garden, the shrubbery, and the
+glebe farm, all endeared by happy recollections, now
+having their brightness dashed with rain.</p>
+
+<p>To Judith this was a first revelation of the mutability
+of things on earth. Hitherto, as a child, with a child&rsquo;s
+eyes and a child&rsquo;s confidence, she had regarded the rectory,
+the glebe, the contents of the house, the flowers in
+the garden, as belonging inalienably to her father and
+brother and herself. They belonged to them together.
+There was nothing that was her father&rsquo;s that did not belong
+to Jamie and to her, nothing of her brother&rsquo;s or her
+own that was not likewise the property of papa. There
+was no mine or thine in that little family of love&mdash;save
+only a few birthday presents given from one to the
+other, and these only special property by a playful concession.
+But now the dear father was gone, and every
+right seemed to dissolve. From the moment that he
+leaned back against the brick, lichen-stained wall, and
+sighed&mdash;and was dead, house and land had been snatched
+from them. And though the contents of the rectory,
+the books, and the furniture, and the china belonged to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>61]</a></span>
+them, it was but for a little while; these things must be
+parted with also, turned into silver.</p>
+
+<p>Not because the money was needed, but because Judith
+had no settled home, and no prospect of one.
+Therefore she must not encumber herself with many belongings.
+For a little while she would lodge with Mr.
+Menaida, but she could not live there forever; she must
+remove elsewhere, and she must consider, in the first
+place, that there was not room in Uncle Zachie&rsquo;s cottage
+for accumulations of furniture, and that, in the next
+place, she would probably have to part with them on
+her next remove, even if she did retain them for a
+while.</p>
+
+<p>If these things were to be parted with, it would be advisable
+to part with them at once. But to this determination
+Judith could not bring herself at first. Though
+she had put aside, to be kept, things too sacred to her,
+too much part of her past life, to be allowed to go into
+the sale, after a few days she relinquished even these.
+Those six delightful old colored prints, in frames, of a
+fox-hunt&mdash;how Jamie had laughed at them, and followed
+the incidents in them, and never wearied of them&mdash;must
+they go&mdash;perhaps for a song? It must be so. That
+work-table of her mother&rsquo;s, of dark rosewood, with a
+crimson bag beneath it to contain wools and silks, one
+of the few remembrances she had of that mother whom
+she but dimly recalled&mdash;must that go?&mdash;what, and all
+those skeins in it of colored floss silk, and the piece of
+embroidery half finished? the work of her mother,
+broken off by death&mdash;that also? It must be so. And
+that rusty leather chair in which papa had sat, with one
+golden-headed child on each knee cuddled into his
+breast, with the flaps of his coat drawn over their heads,
+which listened to the tick-tick of his great watch, and to
+the tale of Little Snowflake, or Gracieuse and Percinet?&mdash;must
+that go also? It must be so.</p>
+
+<p>Every day showed to Judith some fresh link that had
+to be broken. She could not bear to think that the
+mother&rsquo;s work-table should be contended for at a vulgar
+auction, and struck down to a blousy farmer&rsquo;s wife; that
+her father&rsquo;s chair should go to some village inn to be
+occupied by sots. She would rather have seen them destroyed;
+but to destroy them would not be right.</p>
+
+<p>After a while she longed for the sale; she desired to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>62]</a></span>
+have it over, that an entirely new page of life might be
+opened, and her thoughts might not be carried back to
+the past by everything she saw.</p>
+
+<p>Of Coppinger nothing further was seen. Nor did
+Aunt Dionysia appear at the rectory to superintend the
+assortment of the furniture, nor at Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s to inquire
+into the welfare of her nephew and niece. To Judith
+it was a relief not to have her aunt in the parsonage
+while she was there; that hard voice and unsympathetic
+manner would have kept her nerves on the quiver.
+It was best as it was, that she should have time, by
+herself, with no interference from any one, to select what
+was to be kept and put away what was to be sold; to
+put away gently, with her own trembling hand, and with
+eyes full of tears, the old black gown and the Oxford
+hood that papa had worn in church, and to burn his old
+sermons and bundles of letters, unread and uncommented
+on by Aunt Dunes.</p>
+
+<p>In these days Judith did not think much of Coppinger.
+Uncle Zachie informed her that he was worse,
+he was confined to his bed, he had done himself harm
+by coming over to Polzeath the day after his accident,
+and the doctor had ordered him not to stir from Pentyre
+Glaze for some time&mdash;not till his bones were set. Nothing
+was known of the occasion of Coppinger&rsquo;s injuries,
+so Uncle Zachie said; it was reported in the place that
+he had been thrown from his horse. Judith entreated
+the old man not to enlighten the ignorance of the public;
+she was convinced that naught would transpire
+through Jamie, who could not tell a story intelligibly;
+and Miss Dionysia Trevisa was not likely to publish
+what she knew.</p>
+
+<p>Judith had a pleasant little chamber at Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s;
+it was small, low, plastered against the roof, the rafters
+showing, and whitewashed like the walls and ceiling.
+The light entered from a dormer in the roof, a low
+window glazed with diamond quarries set in lead that
+clickered incessantly in the wind. It faced the south,
+and let the sun flow in. A scrap of carpet was on the
+floor, and white curtains to the window. In this chamber
+Judith ranged such of her goods as she had resolved
+on retaining, either as indispensable, or as being too
+dear to her to part with unnecessarily, and which, as
+being of small size, she might keep without difficulty.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>63]</a></span>
+Her father&rsquo;s old travelling trunk, covered with hide
+with the hair on, and his initials in brass nails&mdash;a trunk
+he had taken with him to college&mdash;was there, thrust
+against the wall; it contained her clothes. Suspended
+above it was her little bookcase, with the shelves laden
+with &ldquo;The Travels of Rolando,&rdquo; Dr. Aitkin&rsquo;s &ldquo;Evenings
+at Home,&rdquo; Magnal&rsquo;s &ldquo;Questions,&rdquo; a French Dictionary,
+&ldquo;Paul and Virginia,&rdquo; and a few other works such as were
+the delight of children from ninety to a hundred years
+ago.</p>
+
+<p>Books for children were rare in those days, and such
+as were produced were read and re-read till they were
+woven into the very fibre of the mind, never more to
+be extricated and cast aside. Now it is otherwise. A
+child reads a story-book every week, and each new
+story-book effaces the impression produced by the book
+that went before. The result of much reading is the
+same as the result of no reading&mdash;the production of a
+blank.</p>
+
+<p>How Judith and Jamie had sat together perched up
+in a sycamore, in what they called their nest, and had
+revelled in the adventures of Rolando, she reading
+aloud, he listening a little, then lapsing into observation
+of the birds that flew and hopped about, or the
+insects that spun and crept, or dropped on silky lines,
+or fluttered humming about the nest, then returned to
+attention to the book again! Rolando would remain
+through life the friend and companion of Judith. She
+could not part with the four-volumed, red-leather-backed
+book.</p>
+
+<p>For the first day or two Jamie had accompanied his
+sister to the rectory, and had somewhat incommoded her
+by his restlessness and his mischief, but on the third
+day, and thenceforth, he no longer attended her. He
+had made fast friends with Uncle Zachie. He was
+amused with watching the process of bird-stuffing, and
+the old man made use of the boy by giving him tow to
+pick to pieces and wires to straighten.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida was pleased to have some one by him in
+his workshop to whom he could talk. It was unimportant
+to him whether the listener followed the thread of
+his conversation or not, so long as he was a listener.
+Mr. Menaida, in his solitude, had been wont to talk to
+himself, to grumble to himself at the impatience of his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>64]</a></span>
+customers, to lament to himself the excess of work that
+pressed upon him and deprived him of time for relaxation.
+He was wont to criticise, to himself, his success or
+want of success in the setting-up of a bird. It was far
+more satisfactory to him to be able to address all these
+remarks to a second party.</p>
+
+<p>He was, moreover, surprised to find how keen and
+just had been Jamie&rsquo;s observation of birds, their ways,
+their attitudes. Judith was delighted to think that
+Jamie had discovered talent of some sort, and he had, so
+Uncle Zachie assured her, that imitative ability which
+is often found to exist alongside with low intellectual
+power, and this enabled him to assist Mr. Menaida in
+giving a natural posture to his birds.</p>
+
+<p>It flattered the boy to find that he was appreciated,
+that he was consulted, and asked to assist in a kind of
+work that exacted nothing of his mind.</p>
+
+<p>When Uncle Zachie was tired of his task, which was
+every ten minutes or quarter of an hour, and that was
+the extreme limit to which he could continue regular
+work, he lit his pipe, left his bench, and sat in his arm-chair.
+Then Jamie also left his tow-picking or wire-punching,
+and listened, or seemed to listen, to Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s
+talk. When the old man had finished his pipe,
+and, with a sigh, went back to his task, Jamie was tired
+of hearing him talk, and was glad to resume his work.
+Thus the two desultory creatures suited each other admirably,
+and became attached friends.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie! what is the meaning of this?&rdquo; asked Judith,
+with a start and a rush of blood to her heart.</p>
+
+<p>She had returned in the twilight from the parsonage.
+There was something in the look of her brother, something
+in his manner that was unusual.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie! What have you been taking? Who gave it
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She caught the boy by the arm. Distress and shame
+were in her face, in the tones of her voice.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida grunted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, but it can&rsquo;t be helped&mdash;really it can&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said
+he, apologetically. &ldquo;But Captain Coppinger has sent
+me down a present of a keg of cognac&mdash;real cognac,
+splendid, amber-like&mdash;and, you know, it was uncommonly
+kind. He never did it before. So there was no
+avoidance; we had to tap it and taste it, and give a sup
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>65]</a></span>
+to the fellow who brought us the keg, and drink the
+health of the Captain. One could not be churlish; and,
+naturally, I could not abstain from letting Jamie try the
+spirit. Perfectly pure&mdash;quite wholesome&mdash;first-rate
+quality. Upon my word, he had not more than a fly
+could dip his legs in and feel the bottom; but he is unaccustomed
+to anything stronger than cider, and this is
+stronger than I supposed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Menaida, you promised me&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless me! There are contingencies, you know. I
+never for a moment thought that Captain Coppinger
+would show me such a favor, would have such courtesy.
+But, upon my honor, I think it is your doing, my dear!
+You shook hands and made peace with him, and he has
+sent this in token of the cessation of hostilities and the
+ratification of the agreement.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Menaida, I trusted you. I did believe, when you
+passed your word to me, that you would hold to it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now&mdash;there, don&rsquo;t take it in that way. Jamie, you
+rascal, hop off to bed. He&rsquo;ll be right as a trivet to-morrow
+morning, I stake my reputation on that. There,
+there, I will help him up-stairs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith suffered Mr. Menaida to do as he proposed.
+When he had left the room with Jamie, who was reluctant
+to go, and struggled to remain, she seated herself
+on the sofa, and covering her face with her hands burst
+into tears. Whom could she trust? No one.</p>
+
+<p>Had she been alone in the world she would have been
+more confident of the future, been able to look forward
+with a good courage; but she had to carry Jamie with
+her, who must be defended from himself, and from the
+weak good-nature of those he was with.</p>
+
+<p>When Uncle Zachie came down-stairs he slunk into
+his workroom and was very quiet. No lamp or candle
+was lighted, and it was too dark for him to continue his
+employment on the birds. What was he doing? Nothing.
+He was ashamed of himself, and keeping out of
+Judith&rsquo;s way.</p>
+
+<p>But Judith would not let him escape so easily; she
+went to him, as he avoided her, and found him seated
+in a corner turning his pipe about. He had been afraid
+of striking a light, lest he should call her attention to
+his presence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, my dear, come in here into the workshop to me!
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>66]</a></span>
+This is an honor, an unexpected pleasure. Jamie and
+I have been drudging like slaves all day, and we&rsquo;re
+fagged&mdash;fagged to the ends of our fingers and toes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Menaida, I am sorry to say it, but if such a thing
+happens again as has taken place this evening, Jamie
+and I must leave your house. I thank you with an overflowing
+heart for your goodness to us; but I must consider
+Jamie above everything else, and I must see that
+he be not exposed to temptation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where will you take him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot tell; but I must shield him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There, there, not a word! It shall never happen
+again. Now let by-gones be by-gones, and play me
+something of Beethoven, while I sit here and listen in
+the twilight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Mr. Menaida, I cannot. I have not the spirit to
+do it. I can think only of Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you punish me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take it so. I am sorry; but I cannot do otherwise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, look here! Bless my soul! I had almost forgotten
+it. Here is a note for you, from the Captain, I
+believe.&rdquo; He went to the chimney-piece and took down
+a scrap of paper, folded and sealed.</p>
+
+<p>Judith looked at it and went to the window, broke the
+seal, and opened the paper. She read&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Why do you not come and see me? You do not care
+for what you have done. They call me cruel; but you
+are that.&mdash;C.&nbsp;C.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>67]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER X.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">EGO ET REGINA MEA.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The strange, curt note from Cruel Coppinger served
+in a measure to divert the current of Judith&rsquo;s thoughts
+from her trouble about Jamie. It was, perhaps, as well,
+or she would have fretted over that throughout the night,
+not only because of Jamie, but because she felt that her
+father had left his solemn injunction on her to protect
+and guide her twin-brother, and she knew that whatsoever
+harm, physical or moral, came to him, argued a lack
+of attention to her duty. Her father had not been dead
+many days, and already Jamie had been led from the path
+she had undertaken to keep him in.</p>
+
+<p>But when she began to worry herself about Jamie, the
+bold characters, &ldquo;C.&nbsp;C.,&rdquo; with which the letter was signed,
+rose before her, and glowed in the dark as characters of
+fire.</p>
+
+<p>She had gone to her bedroom, and had retired for the
+night, but could not sleep. The moon shone through
+the lattice into her chamber, and on the stool by the
+window lay the letter, where she had cast it. Her mind
+turned to it.</p>
+
+<p>Why did Coppinger call her cruel? Was she cruel?
+Not intentionally so. She had not wilfully injured him.
+He did not suppose that. He meant that she was heartless
+and indifferent in letting him suffer without making
+any inquiry concerning him.</p>
+
+<p>He had injured himself by coming to Polzeath to see
+her the day following his accident. Uncle Zachie had
+assured her of that.</p>
+
+<p>She went on in her busy mind to ask why he had come
+to see her? Surely there had been no need for him to
+do so! His motive&mdash;the only motive she could imagine&mdash;was
+a desire to relieve her from anxiety and distress of
+mind; a desire to show her that he bore no ill-will toward
+her for what she had done. That was generous and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>68]</a></span>
+considerate of him. Had he not come she certainly
+would have been unhappy and in unrest, would have imagined
+all kinds of evil as likely to ensue through his
+hostility&mdash;for one thing, her aunt&rsquo;s dismissal from her
+post might have been expected.</p>
+
+<p>But Coppinger, though in pain, and at a risk to his
+health, had walked to where she was lodging to disabuse
+her of any such impression. She was grateful to him for
+so doing. She felt that such a man could not be utterly
+abandoned by God, entirely void of good qualities, as
+she had supposed, viewing him only through the representations
+of his character and the tales circulating relative
+to his conduct that had reached her.</p>
+
+<p>A child divides mankind into two classes&mdash;the good
+and the bad, and supposes that there is no debatable land
+between them, where light and shade are blended into
+neutral tint; certainly not that there are blots on the
+white leaf of the lives of the good, and luminous
+glimpses in the darkness of the histories of the bad. As
+they grow older they rectify their judgments, and such
+a rectification Judith had now to make.</p>
+
+<p>She was assisted in this by compassion for Coppinger,
+who was in suffering, and by self-reproach, because she
+was the occasion of this suffering.</p>
+
+<p>What were the exact words Captain Cruel had employed?
+She was not certain; she turned the letter over
+and over in her mind, and could not recall every expression,
+and she could not sleep till she was satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore she rose from bed, stole to the window, took
+up the letter, seated herself on the stool, and conned
+it in the moonlight. &ldquo;Why do you not come and see
+me? You do not care for what you have done.&rdquo; That
+was not true; she was greatly troubled at what she had
+done. She was sick at heart when she thought of that
+scene in the lane, when the black mare was leaping and
+pounding with her hoofs, and Coppinger lay on the
+ground. One kick of the hoof on his head, and he would
+have been dead. His blood would have rested on her
+conscience, never to be wiped off. Horrible was the recollection
+now, in the stillness of the night. It was marvellous
+that life had not been beaten out of the prostrate
+man, that, dragged about by the arm, he had not been
+torn to pieces, that every bone had not been shattered,
+that his face had not been battered out of recognition.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>69]</a></span>
+Judith felt the perspiration stand on her brow at the
+thought. God had been very good to her in sending
+His angel to save Coppinger from death and her from
+blood-guiltiness. She slid to her knees at the window,
+and held up her hands, the moonlight illuminating her
+white upturned face, as she gave thanks to Heaven that
+no greater evil had ensued from her inconsidered act with
+the button-basket than a couple of broken bones.</p>
+
+<p>Oh! it was very far indeed from true that she did not
+care for what she had done. Coppinger must have been
+blind indeed not to have seen how she felt her conduct.
+His letter concluded: &ldquo;They call me cruel; but you are
+that.&rdquo; He meant that she was cruel in not coming to the
+Glaze to inquire after him. He had thought of her
+trouble of mind, and had gone to Polzeath to relieve her
+of anxiety, and she had shown no consideration for him&mdash;or
+not in like manner.</p>
+
+<p>She had been very busy at the rectory. Her mind had
+been concerned with her own affairs, that was her excuse.
+Cruel she was not. She took no pleasure in his
+pain. But she hesitated about going to see him. That
+was more than was to be expected of a young girl. She
+would go on the morrow to Coppinger&rsquo;s house, and ask
+to speak to her aunt; that she might do, and from Aunt
+Dionysia she would learn in what condition Captain
+Cruel was, and might send him her respects and wishes
+for his speedy recovery.</p>
+
+<p>As she still knelt in her window, looking up through
+the diamond panes into the clear, gray-blue sky, she
+heard a sound without, and, looking down, saw a convoy
+of horses pass, laden with bales and kegs, and followed
+or accompanied by men wearing slouched hats. So
+little noise did the beasts make in traversing the road,
+that Judith was convinced their hoofs must be muffled
+in felt. She had heard that this was done by the smugglers.
+It was said that all Coppinger&rsquo;s horses had their
+boots drawn on when engaged in conveying run goods
+from the place where stored to their destination.</p>
+
+<p>These were Coppinger&rsquo;s men, this his convoy, doubtless.
+Judith thrust the letter from her. He was a bad
+man, a very bad man; and if he had met with an accident,
+it was his due, a judgment on his sins. She rose
+from her knees, turned away, and went back to her bed.</p>
+
+<p>Next day, after a morning spent at the rectory, in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>70]</a></span>
+hopes that her aunt might arrive and obviate the need
+of her going in quest of her, Judith, disappointed in
+this hope, prepared to walk to Pentyre. Mrs. Dionysia
+had not acted with kindness toward her. Judith felt
+this, without allowing herself to give to the feeling
+articulate expression. She made what excuses she
+could for Aunt Dunes: she was hindered by duties that
+had crowded upon her, she had been forbidden going
+by Captain Cruel; but none of these excuses satisfied
+Judith.</p>
+
+<p>Judith must go herself to the Glaze, and she had
+reasons of her own for wishing to see her aunt, independent
+of the sense of obligation on her, more or less
+acknowledged, that she must obey the summons of C.&nbsp;C.
+There were matters connected with the rectory, with
+the furniture there, the cow, and the china, that Mrs.
+Trevisa must give her judgment upon. There were
+bills that had come in, which Mrs. Trevisa must pay,
+as Judith had been left without any money in her
+pocket.</p>
+
+<p>As the girl walked through the lanes she turned over
+in her mind the stories she had heard of the smuggler
+Captain, the wild tales of his wrecking ships, of his
+contests with the Preventive men, and the ghastly tragedy
+of Wyvill, who had been washed up headless on
+Doombar. In former days she had accepted all these
+stories as true, had not thought of questioning them;
+but now that she had looked Coppinger in the face, had
+spoken with him, experienced his consideration, she
+could not believe that they were to be accepted without
+question. That story of Wyvill&mdash;that Captain Cruel
+had hacked off his head on the gunwale with his axe&mdash;seemed
+to her now utterly incredible. But if true! She
+shuddered to think that her hand had been held in that
+stained with so hideous a crime.</p>
+
+<p>Thus musing, Judith arrived at Pentyre Glaze, and
+entering the porch, turned from the sea, knocked at the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>A loud voice bade her enter. She knew that the voice
+proceeded from Coppinger, and her heart fluttered with
+fear and uncertainty. She halted, with her hand on the
+door, inclined to retreat without entering; but again
+the voice summoned her to come in, and gathering up
+her courage she opened the door, and, still holding the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>71]</a></span>
+latch, took a few steps forward into the hall or kitchen,
+into which it opened.</p>
+
+<p>A fire was smouldering in the great open fireplace,
+and beside it, in a carved oak arm-chair, sat Cruel Coppinger,
+with a small table at his side, on which were a
+bottle and glass, a canister of tobacco and a pipe. His
+arm was strapped across his breast as she had seen it a
+few days before. Entering from the brilliant light of
+day, Judith could not at first observe his face, but, as
+her eyes became accustomed to the twilight of the
+smoke-blackened and gloomy hall, she saw that he
+looked more worn and pale than he had seemed the day
+after the accident. Nor could she understand the expression
+on his countenance when he was aware who
+was his visitor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said Judith; &ldquo;I am sorry to have
+intruded; but I wished to speak to my aunt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your aunt? Old mother Dunes? Come in. Let
+go your hold of the door and shut it. Your aunt started
+a quarter of an hour ago for the rectory.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I came along the lane from Polzeath.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then no wonder you did not meet her. She went by
+the church path, of course, and over the down.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry to have missed her. Thank you, Captain
+Coppinger, for telling me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stay!&rdquo; he roared, as he observed her draw back into
+the porch. &ldquo;You are not going yet!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot stay for more than a moment in which to
+ask how you do, and whether you are somewhat better?
+I was sorry to hear you had been worse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been worse, yes. Come in. You shall not go.
+I am mewed in as a prisoner, and have none to speak to,
+and no one to look at but old Dunes. Come in, and take
+that stool by the fire, and let me hear you speak, and
+let me rest my eyes a while on your golden hair&mdash;gold
+more golden than that of the Indies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you are better, sir,&rdquo; said Judith, ignoring the
+compliment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am better now I have seen you. I shall be worse
+if you do not come in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She refused to do this by a light shake of the head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose you are afraid. We are wild and lawless
+men here, ogres that eat children! Come, child, I have
+something to show you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>72]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Thank you for your kindness; but I must run to the
+parsonage; I really <em>must</em> see my aunt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I will send her to Polzeath to you when she returns.
+She will keep; she&rsquo;s stale enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would spare her the trouble.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pshaw! She shall do what I will. Now see&mdash;I am
+wearied to death with solitude and sickness. Come,
+amuse yourself, if you will, with insulting me&mdash;calling
+me what you like; I do not mind, so long as you remain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have no desire whatever, Captain Coppinger, to
+insult you and call you names.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You insult me by standing there holding the latch&mdash;standing
+on one foot, as if afraid to sully the soles by
+treading my tainted floor. Is it not an insult that you
+refuse to come in? Is it not so much as saying to me,
+&lsquo;You are false, cruel, not to be trusted; you are not
+worthy that I should be under the same roof with you,
+and breathe the same air?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Captain Coppinger, I do not mean that!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then let go the latch and come in. Stand, if you will
+not sit, opposite me. How can I see you there, in the
+doorway?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is not much to see when I am visible,&rdquo; said
+Judith, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no! not much! Only a little creature who has
+more daring than any man in Cornwall&mdash;who will stand
+up to, and cast at her feet, Cruel Coppinger, at whose
+name men tremble.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith let go her hold on the door, and moved timidly
+into the hall; but she let the door remain half open that
+the light and air flowed in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Captain Coppinger, &ldquo;here is a key
+on this table by me. Do you see a small door by the
+clock-case? Unlock that door with the key.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You want something from thence!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want you to unlock the door. There are beautiful
+and costly things within that you shall see.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you; but I would rather look at them some
+other day, when my aunt is here, and I have more time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you refuse me even the pleasure of letting you
+see what is there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you particularly desire it, Captain Coppinger, I
+will peep in&mdash;but only peep.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>73]</a></span>
+She took the key from his table, and crossed the hall
+to the door. The lock was large and clumsy, but she
+turned the key by putting both hands to it. Then,
+swinging open the door, she looked inside. The door
+opened into an apartment crowded with a collection of
+sundry articles of value: bales of silk from Italy, Genoa
+laces, Spanish silver-inlaid weapons, Chinese porcelain,
+bronzes from Japan, gold and silver ornaments, bracelets,
+brooches, watches, inlaid mother-of-pearl cabinets&mdash;an
+amazing congeries of valuables heaped together.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, now!&rdquo; shouted Cruel Coppinger. &ldquo;What say
+you to the gay things there? Choose&mdash;take what you
+will. I care not for them one rush. What do you most
+admire, most covet? Put out both hands and take&mdash;take
+all you would have; fill your lap, carry off all you can. It
+is yours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith drew hastily back and relocked the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What have you taken?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing? Take what you will; I give it freely.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot take anything, though I thank you, Captain
+Coppinger, for your kind and generous offer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will accept nothing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is like you. You do it to anger me. As you
+throw hard words at me&mdash;coward, wrecker, robber&mdash;and
+as you dash broken glass, buttons, buckles, in my face,
+so do you throw back my offers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not through ingratitude&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I care not through what it is! You seek to anger,
+and not to please me. Why will you take nothing?
+There are beautiful things there to charm a woman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not a woman; I am a little girl.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why do you refuse me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For one thing, because I want none of the things
+there, beautiful and costly though they be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And for the other thing&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For the other thing&mdash;excuse my plain speaking&mdash;I do
+not think they have been honestly got.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By heavens!&rdquo; shouted Coppinger. &ldquo;There you attack
+and stab at me again. I like your plainness of speech.
+You do not spare me. I would not have you false and
+double like old Dunes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Captain Coppinger! I give you thanks from the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>74]</a></span>
+depths of my heart. It is kindly intended, and it is so
+good and noble of you, I feel that; for I have hurt you
+and reduced you to the state in which you now are, and
+yet you offer me the best things in your house&mdash;things
+of priceless value. I acknowledge your goodness; but
+just because I know I do not deserve this goodness I
+must decline what you offer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then come here and give me the key.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She stepped lightly over the floor to him and handed
+him the great iron key to his store chamber. As she did
+so he caught her hand, bowed his dark head, and kissed
+her fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger!&rdquo; She started back, trembling,
+and snatched her hand from him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What! have I offended you again? Why not? A
+subject kisses the hand of his queen; and I am a subject,
+and you&mdash;you my queen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>75]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XI.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">JESSAMINE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;How are you, old man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Middlin&rsquo;, thanky&rsquo;; and how be you, gov&rsquo;nor?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Middlin&rsquo; also; and your missus?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only sadly. I fear she&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; slow but sure the way
+of all flesh.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless us! &rsquo;Tis a trouble and expense them sort o&rsquo;
+things. Now to work, shall we? What do you figure
+up?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, well, I&rsquo;m not here on reg&rsquo;lar business. Huntin&rsquo;
+on my own score to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, ay! Nice port this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Best the old fellow had in his cellar. I told the
+executrix I should like the taste of it, and advise thereon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The valuers for dilapidations, vulgarly termed dilapidators,
+were met in the dining-room of the deserted parsonage.
+Mr. Scantlebray was on one side, Mr. Cargreen
+on the other. Mr. Scantlebray was on that of the &ldquo;orphings,&rdquo;
+as he termed his clients, and Mr. Cargreen on
+that of the Rev. Mr. Mules, the recently nominated rector
+to S. Enodoc.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray was a tall, lean man, with light gray
+eyes, a red face, and legs and arms that he shook every
+now and then as though they were encumbrances to his
+trunk and he was going to shake them off, as a poodle
+issuing from a bath shakes the water out of his locks.
+Mr. Cargreen was a bullet-headed man, with a white
+neckcloth, gray whiskers, a solemn face, and a sort of
+perpetual &ldquo;Let-us-pray&rdquo; expression on his lips and in
+his eyes&mdash;a composing of his interior faculties and abstraction
+from worldly concerns.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am here,&rdquo; said Mr. Scantlebray, &ldquo;as adviser and
+friend&mdash;you understand, old man&mdash;of the orphings and
+their haunt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>76]</a></span>
+&ldquo;And I,&rdquo; said Mr. Cargreen, &ldquo;am ditto to the incoming
+rector.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what do you get out of this visit!&rdquo; asked Mr.
+Scantlebray, who was a frank man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only three guineas as a fee,&rdquo; said Mr. Cargreen.
+&ldquo;And you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ditto, old man&mdash;three guineas. You understand, I
+am not here as valuer to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor I&mdash;only as adviser.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Exactly! Taste this port. &rsquo;Taint bad&mdash;out of the
+cellar of the old chap. Told auntie I must have it, to
+taste and give opinion on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what are you going to do to-day?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to have one or two little things pulled
+down, and other little things put to rights.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humph! I&rsquo;m here to see nothing is pulled down.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We won&rsquo;t quarrel. There&rsquo;s the conservatory, and
+the linney in Willa Park.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said Cargreen, shaking his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now look here, old man,&rdquo; said Mr. Scantlebray.
+&ldquo;You let me tear the linney down, and I&rsquo;ll let the conservatory
+stand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The conservatory&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know; the casement of the best bedroom went
+through the roof of it. I&rsquo;ll mend the roof and repaint it.
+You can try the timber, and find it rotten, and lay on
+dilapidations enough to cover a new conservatory. Pass
+the linney; I want to make pickings out of that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It may perhaps be well to let the reader understand
+the exact situation of the two men engaged in sipping
+port. Directly it was known that a rector had been
+nominated to S. Enodoc, Mr. Cargreen, a Bodmin valuer,
+agent, and auctioneer, had written to the happy nominee,
+Mr. Mules, of Birmingham, inclosing his card in
+the letter, to state that he was a member of an old-established
+firm, enjoying the confidence, not to say the
+esteem of the principal county families in the north of
+Cornwall, that he was a sincere Churchman, that deploring,
+as a true son of the Church, the prevalence of
+Dissent, he felt it his duty to call the attention of the
+reverend gentleman to certain facts that concerned him,
+but especially the <em class="smallcap">Church</em>, and facts that he himself, as
+a devoted son of the Church, on conviction, after mature
+study of its tenets, felt called upon, in the interest of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>77]</a></span>
+that Church he so had at heart, to notice. He had heard,
+said Mr. Cargreen, that the outgoing parties from S.
+Enodoc were removing, or causing to be removed, or
+were proposing to remove, certain fixtures in the parsonage,
+and certain out-buildings, barns, tenements, sheds,
+and linneys on the glebe and parsonage premises, to the
+detriment of its value, inasmuch as that such removal
+would be prejudicial to the letting of the land, and
+render it impossible for the incoming rector to farm it
+himself without re-erecting the very buildings now in
+course of destruction, or which were purposed to be destroyed:
+to wit, certain out-buildings, barns, cattle-sheds,
+and linneys, together with other tenements that need
+not be specified. Mr. Cargreen added that, roughly
+speaking, the dilapidations of these buildings, if allowed
+to stand, might be assessed at &pound;300; but that, if pulled
+down, it would cost the new rector about &pound;700 to re-erect
+them, and their re-erection would be an imperative necessity.
+Mr. Cargreen had himself, personally, no interest
+in the matter; but, as a true son of the Church, etc.,
+etc.</p>
+
+<p>By return of post Mr. Cargreen received an urgent request
+from the Rev. Mr. Mules to act as his agent, and
+to act with precipitation in the protection of his interests.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime Mr. Scantlebray had not been neglectful
+of other people&rsquo;s interest. He had written to
+Miss Dionysia Trevisa to inform her that, though he did
+not enjoy a present acquaintance, it was the solace and
+joy of his heart to remember that some years ago, before
+that infelicitous marriage of Mr. Trevisa, which had led
+to Miss Dionysia&rsquo;s leaving the rectory, it had been his
+happiness to meet her at the house of a mutual acquaintance,
+Mrs. Scaddon, where he had respectfully, and, at
+this distance of time, he ventured to add, humbly and
+hopelessly admired her; that, as he was riding past the
+rectory he had chanced to observe the condition of dilapidation
+certain tenements, pig-sties, cattle-sheds, and
+other out-buildings were in, and that, though it in no
+way concerned him, yet, for auld lang syne&rsquo;s sake, and a
+desire to assist one whom he had always venerated, and,
+at this distance of time might add, had admired, he ventured
+to offer a suggestion: to wit, That a number of
+unnecessary out-buildings should be torn down and
+utterly effaced before a new rector was nominated, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>78]</a></span>
+had appointed a valuer; also that certain obvious repairs
+should be undertaken and done at once, so as to
+give to the parsonage the appearance of being in excellent
+order, and cut away all excuse for piling up dilapidations.
+Mr. Scantlebray ventured humbly to state that
+he had had a good deal of experience with those gentlemen
+who acted as valuers for dilapidations, and with
+pain he was obliged to add that a more unscrupulous
+set of men it had never been his bad fortune to come
+into contact with. He ventured to assert that, were he
+to tell all he knew, or only half of what he knew, as to
+their proceedings in valuing for dilapidations, he would
+make both of Miss Trevisa&rsquo;s ears tingle.</p>
+
+<p>At once Miss Dionysia entreated Mr. Scantlebray to
+superintend and carry out with expedition such repairs
+and such demolitions as he deemed expedient, so as to
+forestall the other party.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Chicken!&rdquo; said Mr. Cargreen. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I&rsquo;ve
+brought for my lunch.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And &rsquo;am is what I&rsquo;ve got,&rdquo; said Mr. Scantlebray.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll go lovely together.&rdquo; Then, in a loud tone&mdash;&ldquo;Come
+in!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The door opened, and a carpenter entered with a piece
+of deal board in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You won&rsquo;t mind looking out of the winder, Mr. Cargreen?&rdquo;
+said Mr. Scantlebray. &ldquo;Some business that&rsquo;s
+partick&rsquo;ler my own. You&rsquo;ll find the jessamine&mdash;the
+white jessamine&mdash;smells beautiful.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Cargreen rose, and went to the dining-room window
+that was embowered in white jessamine, then in full
+flower and fragrance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, Davy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, sir, I ain&rsquo;t got no dry old board for the floor
+where it be rotten, nor for the panelling of the doors
+where broken through.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No board at all?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir&mdash;all is green. Only cut last winter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t it take paint?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, sir, not well. I&rsquo;ve dried this piece by the
+kitchen fire, and I find it&rsquo;ll take the paint for a time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Run, dry all the panels at the kitchen fire, and then
+paint &rsquo;em.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thanky&rsquo;, sir; but, how about the boarding of the
+floor? The boards&rsquo;ll warp and start.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>79]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Look here, Davy, that gentleman who&rsquo;s at the winder
+a-smelling to the jessamine is the surveyor and valuer to
+t&rsquo;other party. I fancy you&rsquo;d best go round outside and
+have a word with him and coax him to pass the boards.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come in!&rdquo; in a loud voice. Then there entered a
+man in a cloth coat, with very bushy whiskers. &ldquo;How
+d&rsquo;y&rsquo; do, Spargo? What do you want?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Mr. Scantlebray, I understand the linney and
+cow-shed is to be pulled down.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So it is, Spargo.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, sir!&rdquo; Mr. Spargo drew his sleeve across his
+mouth. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a lot of very fine oak timber in it&mdash;beams,
+and such like&mdash;that I don&rsquo;t mind buying. As a
+timber merchant I could find a use for it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Say ten pound.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ten pun&rsquo;! That&rsquo;s a long figure!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a pound too much; but come&mdash;we&rsquo;ll say eight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I reckon I&rsquo;d thought five.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Five! pshaw! It&rsquo;s dirt cheap to <em>you</em> at eight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why to me, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, because the new rector will want to rebuild
+both cattle-shed and linney, and he&rsquo;ll have to go to you
+for timber.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But suppose he don&rsquo;t, and cuts down some on the
+glebe?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Spargo&mdash;not a bit. There at the winder, smelling
+to the jessamine, is the new rector&rsquo;s adviser and
+agent. Go round by the front door into the garding,
+and say a word to him&mdash;you understand, and&mdash;&rdquo; Mr.
+Scantlebray tapped his palm. &ldquo;Do now go round and
+have a sniff of the jessamine, Mr. Spargo, and I don&rsquo;t
+fancy Mr. Cargreen will advise the rector to use home-grown
+timber. He&rsquo;ll tell him it sleeps away, gets the
+rot, comes more expensive in the long run.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The valuer took a wing of chicken and a little ham,
+and then shouted, with his mouth full&mdash;&ldquo;Come in!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The door opened and admitted a farmer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do, Mr. Joshua? middlin&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Middlin&rsquo;, sir, thanky&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what have you come about, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well&mdash;Mr. Scantlebray, sir! I fancy you ha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t offered
+me quite enough for carting away of all the rummage
+from them buildings as is coming down. &rsquo;Tis a
+terrible lot of stone, and I&rsquo;m to take &rsquo;em so far away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>80]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, sir, it&rsquo;s such a lot of work for the bosses, and
+the pay so poor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a morsel, Joshua&mdash;not a morsel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, sir, I can&rsquo;t do it at the price.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Joshua! Joshua! I thought you&rsquo;d a better eye
+to the future. Don&rsquo;t you see that the new rector will
+have to build up all these out-buildings again, and where
+else is he to get stone except out of your quarry, or some
+of the old stone you have carted away, which you will
+have the labor of carting back?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, sir, I don&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I do, Joshua.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The new rector might go elsewhere for stone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not he. Look there, at the winder is Mr. Cargreen,
+and he&rsquo;s in with the new parson, like a brother&mdash;knows
+his very soul. The new parson comes from Birmingham.
+What can he tell about building-stone here?
+Mr. Cargreen will tell him yours is the only stuff that
+ain&rsquo;t powder.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, sir, he may not rebuild.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He must. Mr. Cargreen will tell him that he can&rsquo;t
+let the glebe without buildings; and he can&rsquo;t build
+without your quarry stone: and if he has your quarry
+stone&mdash;why, you will be given the carting also. Are you
+satisfied?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;if Mr. Cargreen would be sure&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s there at the winder, a-smelling to the jessamine.
+You go round and have a talk to him, and make
+him understand&mdash;you know. He&rsquo;s a little hard o&rsquo; hearing;
+but the drum o&rsquo; his ear is here,&rdquo; said Scantlebray, tapping
+his palm.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray was now left to himself to discuss the
+chicken wing&mdash;the liver wing he had taken&mdash;and sip the
+port; a conversation was going on in an undertone at
+the window; but that concerned Mr. Cargreen and not
+himself, so he paid no attention to it.</p>
+
+<p>After a while, however, when this hum ceased, he
+turned his head, and called out:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Old man! how about your lunch?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m coming.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you found the jessamine very sweet?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Beautiful! beautiful!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Taste this port. It is not what it should be: some
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>81]</a></span>
+the old fellow laid in when he could afford it&mdash;before he
+married. It is passed, and going back; should have
+been drunk five years ago.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Cargreen came to the table, and seated himself.
+Then Mr. Scantlebray flapped his arms, shook out his
+legs, and settled himself to the enjoyment of the lunch,
+in the society of Mr. Cargreen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The merry-thought! Pull with me, old man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray and Mr. Cargreen were engaged on
+the merry-thought, each endeavoring to steal an advantage
+on the other, by working the fingers up the bone
+unduly, when the window was darkened.</p>
+
+<p>Without desisting from pulling at the merry-thought
+each turned his head, and Scantlebray at once let go his
+end of the bone. At the window stood Captain Coppinger
+looking in at the couple, with his elbow resting
+on the window-sill.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray flattered himself that he was on good
+terms with all the world, and he at once with hilarity saluted
+the Captain by raising the fingers greased by the
+bone to his brow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t reckon on seeing you here, Cap&rsquo;n.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come and pick a bone with us?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger laughed a short snort through his nostrils.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have a bone to pick with you already.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never! no, never!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have forced yourself on Miss Trevisa to act as
+her agent and valuer in the matter of dilapidations.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not forced, Captain. She asked me to give her
+friendly counsel. We are old acquaintances.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will not waste words. Give me her letter. She no
+longer requires your advice and counsel. I am going to
+act for her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You, Cap&rsquo;n! Lor&rsquo; bless me! You don&rsquo;t mean to
+say so!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I will protect her against being pillaged.
+She is my housekeeper.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But see! she is only executrix. She gets nothing
+out of the property.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;but her niece and nephew do. Take it that I
+act for them. Give me up her letter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray hesitated.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>82]</a></span>
+&ldquo;But, Cap&rsquo;n, I&rsquo;ve been to vast expense. I&rsquo;ve entered
+into agreements&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;With whom?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;With carpenter and mason about the repairs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me the agreements.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not agreements exactly. They sent me in their
+estimates, and I accepted them, and set them to work.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me the estimates.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray flapped all his limbs, and shook his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t suppose I carry these sort of things about
+with me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have no doubt whatever they are in your pocket.&rdquo;
+Scantlebray fidgeted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cap&rsquo;n, try this port&mdash;a little going back, but not to
+be sneezed at.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger leaned forward through the window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is that man with you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Cargreen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is he here for?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am agent for the Reverend Mules, the newly appointed
+rector,&rdquo; said Mr. Cargreen, with some dignity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I request you both to step to the window to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The two men looked at each other. Scantlebray
+jumped up, and Cargreen followed. They stood in the
+window-bay at a respectful distance from Cruel Coppinger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose you know who I am?&rdquo; said the latter, fixing
+his eyes on Cargreen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe I can form a guess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And your duty to your client is to make out as bad
+a case as you can against the two children. They have
+had just one thousand pounds left them. You are going
+to get as much of that away from them as you are permitted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My good sir&mdash;allow me to explain&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is no need,&rdquo; said Coppinger. &ldquo;Suffice it that
+you are one side. I&mdash;Cruel Coppinger&mdash;on the other.
+Do you understand what that means?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Cargreen became alarmed, his face became very
+blank.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not a man to waste words. I am not a man that
+many in Cornwall would care to have as an adversary.
+Do you ever travel at night, Mr. Cargreen?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>83]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir, sometimes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Through the lanes and along the lonely roads?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps, sir&mdash;now and then.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; said Coppinger. He drew a pistol from his
+pocket, and played with it. The two &ldquo;dilapidators&rdquo;
+shrank back. &ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; said Coppinger; &ldquo;but I never
+go unarmed. I would advise you to do the same&mdash;if you
+are my adversary.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope, Captain, that&mdash;that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If those children suffer through you more than what
+I allow&rdquo;&mdash;Coppinger drew up his one shoulder that he
+could move&mdash;&ldquo;I should advise you to consider what Mrs.
+Cargreen will have to live on when a widow.&rdquo; Then he
+turned to Scantlebray, who was sneaking behind the
+window-curtain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Trevisa&rsquo;s letter, authorizing you to act for
+her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Scantlebray, with shaking hand, groped for his pocket-book.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And the two agreements or estimates you signed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Scantlebray gave him the letter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The agreements also.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Nervously the surveyor groped again, and reluctantly
+produced them. Captain Coppinger opened them with
+his available hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is this? Five pounds in pencil added to each,
+and then summed up in the total? What is the meaning
+of that, pray?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray again endeavored to disappear behind
+the curtain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come forward!&rdquo; shouted Captain Cruel, striking the
+window-sill with the pistol.</p>
+
+<p>Scantlebray jumped out of his retreat at once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the meaning of these two five pounds?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, sir&mdash;Captain&mdash;it is usual; every one does it.
+It is my&mdash;what d&rsquo;y&rsquo; call it!&mdash;consideration for accepting
+the estimates.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And added to each, and then charged to the orphans,
+who pay you to act in their interest&mdash;so they pay wittingly,
+directly, and unwittingly, indirectly. Well for
+you and for Mrs. Scantlebray that I release you of your
+obligation to act for Mother Dunes&mdash;I mean Miss Trevisa.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said Cargreen, &ldquo;under the circumstances, under
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>84]</a></span>
+intimidation, I decline to sully my fingers with the business.
+I shall withdraw.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, you shall not,&rdquo; said Cruel Coppinger, resolutely.
+&ldquo;You shall act, and act as I approve; and in the end it
+shall not be to your disadvantage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then, without a word of farewell, he stood up, slipped
+the pistol back into his pocket, and strode away.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Cargreen had become white, or rather, the color of
+dough. After a moment he recovered himself somewhat,
+and, turning to Scantlebray, with a sarcastic air, said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope <em>you</em> enjoy the jessamine. They don&rsquo;t smell
+particularly sweet to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Orful!&rdquo; groaned Scantlebray. He shook himself&mdash;almost
+shaking off all his limbs in the convulsion&mdash;&ldquo;Old
+man&mdash;them jessamines is orful!&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>85]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">THE CAVE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Some weeks slipped by without bringing to Judith
+any accession of anxiety. She did not go again to Pentyre
+Glaze, but her aunt came once or twice in the week
+to Polzeath to see her. Moreover, Miss Dionysia&rsquo;s manner
+toward her was somewhat less contrary and vexatious,
+and she seemed to put on a conciliatory manner, as far as
+was possible for one so angular and crabbed. Gracious
+she could not be; nature had made it as impossible for
+her to be gracious in manner as to be lovely in face and
+graceful in movement.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, Judith observed that her aunt looked at her
+with an expression of perplexity, as though seeking in
+her to find an answer to a riddle that vexed her brain.
+And so it was. Aunt Dunes could not understand the
+conduct of Coppinger toward Judith and her brother.
+Nor could she understand how a child like her niece could
+have faced and defied a man of whom she herself stood
+in abject fear. Judith had behaved to the smuggler in
+a way that no man in the whole countryside would have
+ventured to behave. She had thrown him at her feet,
+half killed him, and yet Cruel Coppinger did not resent
+what had been done; on the contrary, he went out of his
+way to interfere in the interest of the orphans. He was
+not the man to concern himself in other people&rsquo;s affairs;
+why should he take trouble on behalf of Judith and her
+brother? That he did it out of consideration for herself,
+Miss Trevisa had not the assurance to believe.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Dunes put a few searching questions to Judith,
+but drew from her nothing that explained the mystery.
+The girl frankly told her of her visit to the Glaze and
+interview with the crippled smuggler, of his offer to her
+of some of his spoil, and of her refusal to receive a present
+from him. Miss Trevisa approved of her niece&rsquo;s
+conduct in this respect. It would not have befitted her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>86]</a></span>
+to accept anything. Judith, however, did not communicate
+to her aunt the closing scene in that interview. She
+did not tell her that Coppinger had kissed her hand, nor
+his excuse for having done so, that he was offering homage
+to a queen.</p>
+
+<p>For one thing, Judith did not attach any importance
+to this incident. She had always heard that Coppinger
+was a wild and insolent man, wild and insolent in his
+dealings with his fellow-men, therefore doubtless still
+more so in his treatment of defenceless women. He had
+behaved to her in the rude manner in which he would
+behave to any peasant girl or sailor&rsquo;s daughter who
+caught his fancy, and she resented his act as an indignity,
+and his excuse for it as a prevarication. And, precisely,
+because he had offended her maidenly dignity,
+she blushed to mention it, even to her aunt, resolving in
+her own mind not to subject herself to the like again.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa, on several occasions, invited Judith to
+come and see her at Pentyre Glaze, but the girl always
+declined the invitation.</p>
+
+<p>Judith&rsquo;s estimate of Cruel Coppinger was modified.
+He could not be the utter reprobate she had always held
+him to be. She fully acknowledged that there was an
+element of good in the man, otherwise he would not have
+forgiven the injury done him, nor would he have interfered
+to protect her and Jamie from the fraud and extortion
+of the &ldquo;dilapidators.&rdquo; She trusted that the stories
+she had heard of Coppinger&rsquo;s wild and savage acts were
+false, or overcolored. Her dear father had been misled
+by reports, as she had been, and it was possible that
+Coppinger had not really been the impediment in her
+father&rsquo;s way that the late rector had supposed.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie was happy. He was even, in a fashion, making
+himself useful. He helped Mr. Menaida in his bird-stuffing
+on rainy days; he did more, he ran about the
+cliffs, learned the haunts of the wild-fowl, ascertained
+where they nested, made friends with Preventive men,
+and some of those fellows living on shore, without any
+very fixed business, who rambled over the country with
+their guns, and from these he was able to obtain birds
+that he believed Mr. Menaida wanted. Judith was glad
+that the boy should be content, and enjoy the fresh air
+and some freedom. She would have been less pleased
+had she seen the companions Jamie made. But the men
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>87]</a></span>
+had rough good-humor, and were willing to oblige the
+half-witted boy, and they encouraged him to go with
+them shooting, or to sit with them in their huts.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie manifested so strong a distaste for books, and
+lesson time being one of resistance, pouting, tears, and
+failures, that Judith thought it not amiss to put off the
+resumption of these irksome tasks for a little while, and
+to let the boy have his run of holidays. She fancied that
+the loss of his father and of his old home preyed on him
+more than was actually the case; and believed that by
+giving him freedom till the first pangs were over, he
+might not suffer in the way that she had done.</p>
+
+<p>For a fortnight or three weeks Judith&rsquo;s time had been
+so fully engaged at the parsonage, that she could not
+have devoted much of it to Jamie, even had she thought
+it desirable to keep him to his lessons; nor could she
+be with him much. She did not press him to accompany
+her to the rectory, there to spend the time that she was
+engaged sorting her father&rsquo;s letters and memoranda, his
+account-books and collection of extracts made from volumes
+he had borrowed, as not only would it be tedious
+to him, but he would distract her mind. She must see
+that he was amused, and must also provide that he was
+not at mischief. She did take him with her on one or
+two occasions, and found that he had occupied himself in
+disarranging much that she had put together for the sale.</p>
+
+<p>But she would not allow him wholly to get out of the
+way of looking to her as his companion, and she abandoned
+an afternoon to him now and then, as her work
+became less arduous, to walk with him on the cliffs or in
+the lanes, to listen to his childish prattle, and throw herself
+into his new pursuits. The link between them must
+not be allowed to become relaxed, and, so far as in her
+lay, she did her utmost to maintain it in its former security.
+But, with his father&rsquo;s death, and his removal to
+Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s cottage, a new world had opened to Jamie;
+he was brought into association with men and boys whom
+he had hardly known by sight previously, and without
+any wish to disengage himself from his sister&rsquo;s authority,
+he was led to look to others as comrades, and to listen
+to and follow their promptings.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Jamie,&rdquo; said Judith, one day. &ldquo;Now I really
+have some hours free, and I will go a stroll with you on
+the downs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>88]</a></span>
+The boy jumped with pleasure, and caught her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I may take Tib with me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes, certainly, dear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tib was a puppy that had been given to Jamie by one
+of his new acquaintances.</p>
+
+<p>The day was fresh. Clouds driving before the wind,
+now obscuring the sun and threatening rain, then clearing
+and allowing the sun to turn the sea green and gild
+the land. Owing to the breeze the sea was ruffled and
+strewn with breakers shaking their white foam.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am going to show you something I have found,
+Ju,&rdquo; said the boy. &ldquo;You will follow, will you not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lead the way. What is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come and see. I found it by myself. I shan&rsquo;t tell
+any one but you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He conducted his sister down the cliffs to the beach
+of a cove. Judith halted a moment to look along the
+coast with its mighty, sombre cliffs, and the sea glancing
+with sun or dulled by shadow to Tintagel Head standing
+up at the extreme point to the northeast, with the
+white surf lashing and heaving around it. Then she
+drew her skirts together, and descended by the narrow
+path along which, with the lightness and confidence of
+a kid, Jamie was skipping.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Have you seen?&mdash;there is a
+ship standing in the offing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; she has been there all the morning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she went further.</p>
+
+<p>The cove was small, with precipitous cliffs rising from
+the sand to the height of two to three hundred feet.
+The seagulls screamed and flashed to and fro, and the
+waves foamed and threw up their waters lashed into
+froth as white and light as the feathers on the gulls. In
+the concave bay the roar of the plunging tide reverberated
+from every side. Neither the voice of Jamie, when
+he shouted to his sister from some feet below, nor the
+barking of his little dog that ran with him, could be distinguished
+by her.</p>
+
+<p>The descent was rapid and rugged, yet not so precipitous
+but that it could be gone over by asses or mules.
+Evidence that these creatures had passed that way remained
+in the impression of their hoofs in the soil, wherever
+a soft stratum intervened between the harder shelves
+of the rock, and had crumbled on the path into clay.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>89]</a></span>
+Judith observed that several paths&mdash;not all mule-paths&mdash;converged
+lower down at intervals in the way by
+which she descended, so that it would be possible, apparently,
+to reach the sand from various points in the
+down, as well as by the main track by which she was
+stepping to the beach.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie!&rdquo; called Judith, as she stood on the last
+shoulder of rock before reaching the beach over a wave-washed
+and smoothed surface. &ldquo;Jamie! I can see that
+same ship from here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But her brother could not hear her. He was throwing
+stones for the dog to run after, and meet a wave as it
+rushed in.</p>
+
+<p>The tide was going out: it had marked its highest
+elevation by a bow of foam and strips of dark seaweed
+and broken shells. Judith stepped along this line, and
+picked out the largest ribbon of weed she could find.
+She would hang it in her bedroom to tell her the
+weather. The piece that had been wont to act as barometer
+was old, and, besides, it had been lost in the
+recent shift and confusion.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie came up to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Ju, mind and watch me, or you will lose me
+altogether.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he ran forward, with Tib dancing and yelping
+round him. Presently he scrambled up a shelf of rock
+inclined from the sea, and up after him, yelping, scrambled
+Tib. In a moment both disappeared over the
+crest.</p>
+
+<p>Judith went up to the ridge and called to her brother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot climb this, Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But in another moment, a hundred yards to her right,
+round the extremity of the reef, came Tib and his master,
+the boy dancing and laughing, the dog ducking his
+head, shaking his ears, and, all but laughing also, evidently
+enjoying the fun as much as Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This way, Ju!&rdquo; shouted the boy, and signed to his
+sister. She could not hear his voice, but obeyed his
+gestures. The reef ran athwart the top of the bay, like
+the dorsal, jagged ridge of a crocodile half buried in the
+sand.</p>
+
+<p>Judith drew her skirts higher and closer, as the sand
+was wet, and there were pools by the rock. Then, holding
+her ribbon of seaweed by the harsh, knotted root,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>90]</a></span>
+torn up along with the leaf, and trailing it behind her,
+she followed her brother, reached the end of the rock,
+turned and went in the traces of Jamie and Tib in the
+sand parallel to her former course.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, on the right hand
+there opened before her, in the face of the cliff, a cave,
+the entrance to which was completely masked by the
+ridge she had turned. Into this cave went Jamie with
+his dog.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not obliged to follow you there!&rdquo; protested
+Judith; but he made such vehement signs to her to follow
+him that she good-humoredly obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>The cave ran in a long way, at first at no great incline,
+then it became low overhead, and immediately after
+the floor inclined rapidly upward, and the vault took
+a like direction. Moreover, light appeared in front.
+Here, to Judith&rsquo;s surprise, she saw a large boat, painted
+gray, furnished with oars and boat-hook. She was attached
+by a chain to a staple in the rock. Judith examined
+her with a little uneasiness. No name was on her.</p>
+
+<p>The sides of the cave at this point formed shelves, not
+altogether natural, and that these were made use of was
+evident, because on them lay staves of broken casks, a
+four-flanged boat-anchor, and some oars. Out of the
+main trunk cave branched another that was quite dark,
+and smaller; in this, Judith, whose eyes were becoming
+accustomed to the twilight, thought she saw the bows of
+a smaller boat, also painted gray.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie!&rdquo; said Judith, now in serious alarm; &ldquo;we
+ought not to be here. It is not safe. Do&mdash;do come
+away at once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, what is there to harm us?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, do come away.&rdquo; She turned to retrace her
+steps, but Jamie stopped her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not that way, Ju! I have another by which to get
+out. Follow me still.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He led the way up the steep rubble slope, and the
+light fell fuller from above. The cave was one of those
+into which when the sea rolls and chokes the entrance,
+the compressed air is driven out by a second orifice.</p>
+
+<p>They reached a sort of well or shaft, at the bottom of
+which they stood, but it did not open vertically but
+bent over somewhat, so that from below the sky could
+not be seen, though the light entered. A narrow path
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>91]</a></span>
+was traced in the side, and up this Jamie and the dog
+scrambled, followed by Judith, who was most anxious to
+escape from a place which she had no doubt was one of
+the shelter caves of the smugglers&mdash;perhaps of Cruel
+Coppinger, whose house was not a mile distant.</p>
+
+<p>The ascent was steep, the path slippery in places, and
+therefore dangerous. Jamie made nothing of it, nor did
+the little dog, but Judith picked her way with care; she
+had a good steady head, and did not feel giddy, but she
+was not sure that her feet might not slide in the clay
+where wet with water that dripped from the sides. As
+she neared the entrance she saw that hartstongue and
+maidenhair fern had rooted themselves in the sheltered
+nooks of this tunnel.</p>
+
+<p>After a climb of a hundred feet she came out on a
+ledge in the face of the cliff above the bay, to see, with
+a gasp of dismay, her brother in the hand of Cruel Coppinger,
+the boy paralyzed with fear so that he could
+neither stir nor cry out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo; exclaimed the Captain, &ldquo;you here?&rdquo; as he
+saw Judith stand before him.</p>
+
+<p>The puppy was barking and snapping at his boots.
+Coppinger let go Jamie, stooped and caught the dog by
+the neck. &ldquo;Look at me,&rdquo; said the smuggler sternly,
+addressing the frightened boy. Then he swung the dog
+above his head and dashed it down the cliffs; it caught,
+then rolled, and fell out of sight&mdash;certainly with the life
+beaten out of it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This will be done to you,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;I do not say
+that I would do it. She&rdquo;&mdash;he waved his hand toward
+Judith&mdash;&ldquo;stands between us. But if any of the fifteen
+to twenty men who know this place and come here
+should chance to meet you as I have met you, he would
+treat you without compunction as I have treated that
+dog. And if he were to catch you below&mdash;you have
+heard of Wyvill, the Preventive man?&mdash;you would fare
+as did he. Thank your sister that you are alive now.
+Go on&mdash;that way&mdash;up the cliff.&rdquo; He pointed with a
+telescope he held.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie fled up the steep path like the wind.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith,&rdquo; said Coppinger, &ldquo;will you stand surety that
+he does not tell tales?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not believe he will say anything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not ask you to be silent. I know you will not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>92]</a></span>
+speak. But if you mistrust his power to hold his
+tongue, send him away&mdash;send him out of the country&mdash;as
+you love him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He shall never come here again,&rdquo; said Judith,
+earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is well; he owes his life to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith noticed that Cruel Coppinger&rsquo;s left arm was no
+more in a sling, nor in bands.</p>
+
+<p>He saw that she observed this, and smiled grimly. &ldquo;I
+have my freedom with this arm once more&mdash;for the first
+time to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>93]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">IN THE DUSK.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;Kicking along, Mr. Menaida, old man?&rdquo; asked Mr.
+Scantlebray, in his loud, harsh voice, as he shook himself
+inside the door of Uncle Zachie&rsquo;s workshop. &ldquo;And
+the little &rsquo;uns? Late in life to become nurse and keep
+the bottle and pap-bowl going, eh, old man? How&rsquo;s the
+orphings? Eating their own weight of victuals at twopence-ha&rsquo;penny
+a head, eh? My experience of orphings
+isn&rsquo;t such as would make a man hilarious, and feel that
+he was filling his pockets.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sit you down, sir; you&rsquo;ll find a chair. Not that one,
+there&rsquo;s a dab of arsenical paste got on to that. Sit you
+down, sir, over against me. Glad to see you and have
+some one to talk to. Here am I slaving all day, worn to
+fiddlestrings. There&rsquo;s Squire Rashleigh, of Menabilly,
+must have a glaucous gull stuffed at once that he has
+shot; and there&rsquo;s Sir John St. Aubyn, of Clowance, must
+have a case of kittiwakes by a certain day; and an institution
+in London wants a genuine specimen of a Cornish
+chough. Do they think I&rsquo;m a tradesman to be
+ordered about? That I&rsquo;ve not an income of my own,
+and that I am dependent on my customers? I&rsquo;ll do no
+more. I&rsquo;ll smoke and play the piano. I&rsquo;ve no time to
+exchange a word with any one. Come, sit down. What&rsquo;s
+the news?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a bad world,&rdquo; said Mr. Scantlebray, setting himself
+into a chair. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s to say, the world is well
+enough if it warn&rsquo;t for there being too many rascals in
+it. I consider it&rsquo;s a duty on all right-thinking men to
+clear them off.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, the world would be better if we had the making
+of it,&rdquo; acquiesced Mr. Menaida. &ldquo;Bless you! I&rsquo;ve
+no time for anything. I like to do a bit of bird-stuffing
+just as a sort of relaxation after smoking, but to be
+forced to work more than one cares&mdash;I won&rsquo;t do it!
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>94]</a></span>
+Besides, it is not wholesome. I shall be poisoned with
+arsenic. I must have some antidote. So will you, sir&mdash;eh?
+A drop of real first-rate cognac?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, sir&mdash;old man&mdash;I don&rsquo;t mind dipping a
+feather and drawing it across my lips.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie had been so frightened by the encounter with
+Cruel Coppinger that he was thoroughly upset. He was
+a timid, nervous child, and Judith had persuaded him
+to go to bed. She sat by him, holding his hand, comforting
+him as best she might, when he sobbed over the
+loss of his pup, and cheering him when he clung to her
+in terror at the reminiscence of the threats of the Captain
+to deal with him as he had with Tib. Judith was
+under no apprehension of his revisiting the cave; he
+had been too thoroughly frightened ever to venture
+there again. She said nothing to impress this on him;
+all her efforts were directed toward allaying his alarms.</p>
+
+<p>Just as she hoped that he was dropping off into unconsciousness,
+he suddenly opened his eyes, and said,
+&ldquo;Ju.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, dear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve lost the chain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What chain, my pretty?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tib&rsquo;s chain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The pup had been a trouble when Jamie went with
+the creature through the village or through a farm-yard.
+He would run after and nip the throats of chickens. Tib
+and his master had got into trouble on this account;
+accordingly Judith had turned out a light steel chain,
+somewhat rusty, and a dog collar from among the sundries
+that encumbered the drawers and closets of the
+rectory. This she had given to her brother, and whenever
+the little dog was near civilization he was obliged
+to submit to the chain.</p>
+
+<p>Judith, to console Jamie for his loss, had told him
+that in all probability another little dog might be procured
+to be his companion. Alas! the collar was on
+poor Tib, but she represented to him that if another
+dog were obtained it would be possible to buy or beg a
+collar for him, supposing a collar to be needful. This
+had satisfied Jamie, and he was about to doze off, when
+suddenly he woke to say that the chain was lost.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where did you lose the chain, Jamie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I threw it down.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>95]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Why did you do that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought I shouldn&rsquo;t want it when Tib was gone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And where did you throw it? Perhaps it may be
+found again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t go and look for it&mdash;indeed I won&rsquo;t.&rdquo; He
+shivered and clung to his sister.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where was it? Perhaps I can find it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I dropped it at the top&mdash;on the down when I came
+up the steps from&mdash;from that man, when he had killed
+Tib.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You did not throw it over the cliff?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;I threw it down. I did not think I wanted it
+any more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I dare say it may be found. I will go and see.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;no! Don&rsquo;t, Ju. You might meet that man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith smiled. She felt that she was not afraid of
+that man&mdash;he would not hurt her.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the boy was asleep, Judith descended the
+stairs, leaving the door ajar, that she might hear should
+he wake in a fright, and entering the little sitting-room,
+took up her needles and wool, and seated herself quietly
+by the window, where the last glimmer of twilight
+shone, to continue her work at a jersey she was knitting
+for Jamie&rsquo;s use in the winter.</p>
+
+<p>The atmosphere was charged with tobacco-smoke, almost
+as much as that of the adjoining workshop. There
+was no door between the rooms; none had been needed
+formerly, and Mr. Menaida did not think of supplying
+one now. It was questionable whether one would have
+been an advantage, as Jamie ran to and fro, and would
+be certain either to leave the door open or to slam it,
+should one be erected. Moreover, a door meant payment
+to a carpenter for timber and labor. There was
+no carpenter in the village, and Mr. Menaida spent no
+more money than he was absolutely obliged to spend,
+and how could he on an annuity of fifty pounds.</p>
+
+<p>Judith dropped her woolwork in her lap and fell into
+meditation. She reviewed what had just taken place:
+she saw before her again Coppinger, strongly built, with
+his dark face, and eyes that glared into the soul to its
+lowest depths, illumining all, not as the sun, but as the
+lightning, and suffering not a thought, not a feeling to
+remain obscure.</p>
+
+<p>A second time had Jamie done what angered him, but
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>96]</a></span>
+on this occasion he had curbed his passion and had contented
+himself with a threat&mdash;nay, not even that&mdash;with
+a caution. He had expressly told Jamie, that he himself
+would not hurt him, but that he ran into danger from
+others.</p>
+
+<p>She was again looking at Coppinger as he spoke; she
+saw the changes in his face, the alterations of expression
+in his eyes, in his intonation. She recalled the stern,
+menacing tone in which he had spoken to Jamie, and
+then the inflexion of voice as he referred to her. A dim
+surmise&mdash;a surmise she was ashamed to allow could be
+true&mdash;rose in her mind and thrilled her with alarm. Was
+it possible that he <em>liked</em> her&mdash;liked&mdash;she could, she would
+give even in thought no other term to describe that feeling
+which she feared might possibly have sprung up in
+his breast. That he liked her&mdash;after all she had done?
+Was that why he had come to the cottage the day after
+his accident? Was that what had prompted the strange
+note sent to her along with the keg of spirits to Uncle
+Zachie? Was that the meaning of the offer of the choice
+of all his treasures?&mdash;of the vehemence with which he
+had seized her hand and had kissed it? Was that the
+interpretation of those words of excuse in which he had
+declared her his queen? If this were so, then much that
+had been enigmatical in his conduct was explained&mdash;his
+interference with the valuers for dilapidations, the
+strange manner in which he came across her path almost
+whenever she went to the rectory. And this was the signification
+of the glow in his eyes, the quaver in his voice,
+when he addressed her.</p>
+
+<p>Was it so?&mdash;could it be so?&mdash;that he liked her?&mdash;he&mdash;Cruel
+Coppinger&mdash;<em>Cruel</em> Coppinger&mdash;the terror of the
+country round&mdash;liked <em>her</em>, the weakest creature that could
+be found?</p>
+
+<p>The thought of such a possibility frightened her.
+That the wild smuggler-captain should hate her she
+could have borne with better than that he should like
+her. That she was conscious of a sense of pleased surprise,
+intermixed with fear, was inevitable, for Judith
+was a woman, and there was something calculated to
+gratify feminine pride in the presumption that the most
+lawless and headstrong man on the Cornish coast should
+have meant what he said when he declared himself her
+subject.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>97]</a></span>
+These thoughts, flushing and paling her cheek, quickening
+and staying her pulse, so engrossed Judith that,
+though she heard the voices in the adjoining apartment,
+she paid no heed to what was said.</p>
+
+<p>The wind, which had been fresh all day, was blowing
+stronger. It battered at the window where Judith sat,
+as though a hand struck and brushed over the panes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hot or cold?&rdquo; asked Uncle Zachie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thanky&rsquo;, neither. Water can be got everywhere, but
+such brandy as this, old man&mdash;only here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are good to say so. It is Coppinger&rsquo;s present to
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Coppinger!&mdash;his very good health, and may he lie
+in clover to-morrow night. He&rsquo;s had one arm bound,
+I&rsquo;ve seen; perhaps he may have two before the night
+grows much older.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida raised his brows.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not understand you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I daresay not,&rdquo; said Scantlebray. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s the duty of
+all right-minded men to clear the world of rascals. I will
+do my duty, please the pigs. Would you mind&mdash;just
+another drop?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After his glass had been refilled, Mr. Scantlebray
+leaned back in his chair and said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a wicked world, and, between you and me and the
+sugar dissolving at the bottom of my glass, you won&rsquo;t
+find more rascality anywhere than in my profession, and
+one of the biggest rascals in it is Mr. Cargreen. He&rsquo;s on
+the side against the orphings. If you&rsquo;ve the faculty
+of pity in you, pity them&mdash;first, because they&rsquo;ve him
+agin&rsquo; &rsquo;em, and, secondly, because they&rsquo;ve lost me as their
+protector. You know whom they got in place of me? I
+wish them joy of him. But they won&rsquo;t have his wing over
+them long, I can tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You think not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sure of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You think he&rsquo;ll throw it up?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I rather suspect he won&rsquo;t be at liberty to attend
+to it. He&rsquo;ll want his full attention to his own consarns.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray tipped off his glass.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s going to be a dirty night,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;You won&rsquo;t
+mind my spending an hour or two with you, will
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>98]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I shall be delighted. Have you any business in the
+place?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Business&mdash;no. A little pleasure, maybe.&rdquo; After a
+pause, he said, &ldquo;But, old man, I don&rsquo;t mind telling you
+what it is. You are mum, I know. It is this&mdash;the
+trap will shut to-night. Snap it goes, and the rats are
+fast. You haven&rsquo;t been out on the cliffs to-day, have
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;bless me!&mdash;no, I have not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Black Prince is in the offing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Black Prince?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, and she will run her cargo ashore to-night.
+Now, I&rsquo;m one who knows a little more than most. I&rsquo;m
+one o&rsquo; your straightfor&rsquo;ard &rsquo;uns, always ready to give a
+neighbor a lift in my buggy, and a helping hand to the
+man that is down, and a frank, outspoken fellow am I to
+every one I meet&mdash;so that, knocking about as I do, I
+come to know and to hear more than do most, and I happen
+to have learnt into what cove the Black Prince will
+run her goods. I&rsquo;ve a bone to pick with Captain Cruel,
+so I&rsquo;ve let the Preventive men have the contents of my
+information-pottle, and they will be ready to-night for
+Coppinger and the whole party of them. The cutter will
+slip in between them and the sea, and a party will be
+prepared to give them the kindliest welcome by land.
+That is the long and short of it&mdash;and, old man, I shall
+dearly love to be there and see the sport. That is why I
+wish to be with you for an hour or two. Will you come
+as well?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless me!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Menaida, &ldquo;not I! You
+don&rsquo;t suppose Coppinger and his men will allow themselves
+to be taken easily? There&rsquo;ll be a fight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And pistols go off,&rdquo; said Scantlebray. &ldquo;I shall not
+be surprised or sorry if Captain Cruel be washed up one
+of these next tides with a bullet through his head. Ebenezer
+Wyvill is one of the guards, and he has his brother&rsquo;s
+death to avenge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you really believe that Coppinger killed him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray shrugged his shoulders. &ldquo;It don&rsquo;t
+matter much what <em>I</em> think, to-night, but what the impression
+is that Ebenezer Wyvill carries about with him.
+I imagine that if Ebenezer comes across the Captain he
+won&rsquo;t speak to him by word of mouth, nor trouble himself
+to feel for a pair of handcuffs. So&mdash;fill my glass
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>99]</a></span>
+again, old man, and we&rsquo;ll drink to a cold bed and an indigestible
+lump&mdash;somewhere&mdash;in his head or in his gizzard&mdash;to
+Cruel Coppinger, and the wiping off of old
+scores&mdash;always a satisfaction to honest men.&rdquo; Scantlebray
+rubbed his hands. &ldquo;It is a satisfaction to the
+conscience&mdash;to ferret out the rats sometimes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>100]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">WARNING OF DANGER.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Judith, lost for awhile in her dreams, had been brought
+to a sense of what was the subject of conversation in
+the adjoining room by the mention of Coppinger&rsquo;s name
+more than once. She heard the desultory talk for
+awhile without giving it much attention, but Scantlebray&rsquo;s
+voice was of that harsh and penetrating nature
+that to exclude it the ears must be treated as Ulysses
+treated the ears of his mariners as he passed the rock of
+the Sirens.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she became alive to the danger in which
+Coppinger stood. Scantlebray spoke plainly, and she
+understood. There could be no doubt about it. The
+Black Prince belonged to the Captain, and his dealings
+with and through that vessel were betrayed. Not only
+was Coppinger, as the head of a gang of smugglers, an
+object worth capture to the Preventive men, but the
+belief that he had caused the death of at least one of
+their number had embittered them against him to such
+an extent that, when the opportunity presented itself
+to them of capturing him red-handed engaged in his
+smuggling transactions, they were certain to deal with
+him in a way much more summary than the processes of
+a court of a justice. The brother of the man who had
+been murdered was among the coast-guard, and he would
+not willingly let slip a chance of avenging the death of
+Jonas Wyvill. Coppinger was not in a condition to
+defend himself effectively. On that day for the first
+time, had he left off his bandages, and his muscles were
+stiff and the newly set bones still weak.</p>
+
+<p>What was to be done? Could Judith go to bed and
+let Coppinger run into the net prepared for his feet&mdash;go
+to his death?</p>
+
+<p>No sooner, however, had Judith realized the danger
+that menaced Coppinger than she resolved on doing her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>101]</a></span>
+utmost to avert it. She, and she alone, could deliver
+him from the disgrace, if not the death, that menaced
+him.</p>
+
+<p>She stole lightly from the room and got her cloak,
+drew the hood over her head, and sallied forth into the
+night. Heavy clouds rolled over the sky, driven before
+a strong gale. Now and then they opened and disclosed
+the twilight sky, in which faintly twinkled a few stars,
+and at such times a dim light fell over the road, but in
+another moment lumbering masses of vapor were carried
+forward, blotting out the clear tract of sky, and at the
+same time blurring all objects on earth with one enveloping
+shadow.</p>
+
+<p>Judith&rsquo;s heart beat furiously, and timidity came over
+her spirit as she left the cottage, for she was unaccustomed
+to be outside the house at such an hour; but the
+purpose she had before her eyes gave her strength and
+courage. It seemed to her that Providence had suddenly
+constituted her the guardian angel of Coppinger,
+and she flattered herself that, were she to be the means
+of delivering him from the threatened danger, she might
+try to exact of him a promise to discontinue so dangerous
+and so questionable a business. If this night she
+were able to give him warning in time, it would be
+some return made for his kindness to her, and some
+reparation made for the injury she had done him.
+When for an instant there was a rift in the clouds,
+and she could look up and see the pure stars, it seemed
+to her that they shone down on her like angels&rsquo; eyes,
+watching, encouraging, and promising her protection.
+She thought of her father&mdash;of how his mind had been
+set against Coppinger; now, she felt convinced, he saw
+that his judgment had been warped, and that he would
+bless her for doing that which she had set her mind to
+accomplish. Her father had been ever ready frankly
+to acknowledge himself in the wrong when he had been
+convinced that he was mistaken, and now in the light
+of eternity, with eyes undarkened by prejudice, he must
+know that he was in error in his condemnation of
+Coppinger, and be glad that his daughter was doing
+something to save that man from an untimely and
+bloody death.</p>
+
+<p>Not a soul did Judith meet or pass on her way. She
+had determined in the first case to go to Pentyre Glaze.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>102]</a></span>
+She would see if Captain Cruel were there. She trusted
+he was at his house. If so, her course was simple; she
+would warn him and return to Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s cottage as
+quickly as her feet would bear her. The wind caught
+her cloak, and she turned in alarm, fancying that it was
+plucked by a human hand. No one, however, was behind
+her.</p>
+
+<p>In Pentyre lane it was dark, very dark. The rude
+half-walls, half-hedges stood up high, walled toward
+the lane hedged with earth and planted with thorns
+toward the field. The wind hissed through the bushes;
+there was an ash tree by a gate. One branch sawed
+against another, producing a weird, even shrill sound
+like a cry.</p>
+
+<p>The way led past a farm, and she stole along before it
+with the utmost fear as she heard the dog in the yard
+begin to bark furiously, and as she believed that it was
+not chained up, might rush forth at her. It might fall
+upon her, and hold her there till the farmer came forth
+and found her, and inquired into the reason of her being
+there at night. If found and recognized, what excuse
+could she give? What explanation could satisfy the inquisitive?</p>
+
+<p>She did not breathe freely till she had come out on the
+down; the dog was still barking, but, as he had not pursued
+her, she was satisfied that he was not at large. Her
+way now lay for a while over open common, and then
+again entered a lane between the hedges that enclosed
+the fields and meadows of the Glaze.</p>
+
+<p>A dense darkness fell over the down, and Judith for a
+while was uncertain of her way, the track being undistinguishable
+from the short turf on either side. Suddenly
+she saw some flashes of light that ran along the
+ground and then disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is the road,&rdquo; said a voice.</p>
+
+<p>Judith&rsquo;s heart stood still, and her blood curdled in her
+veins. If the cloud were to roll away&mdash;and she could see
+far off its silvery fringe, she would become visible. The
+voice was that of a man, but whether that of a smuggler
+or of a coast-guard she could not guess. By neither
+did she care to be discovered. By the dim, uncertain
+light she stole off the path, and sank upon the ground
+among some masses of gorse that stood on the common.
+Between the prickly tufts she might lie, and in her dark
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>103]</a></span>
+cloak be mistaken for a patch of furze. She drew her
+feet under the skirt, that the white stockings might not
+betray her, and plucked the hood of her cloak closely
+round her face. The gorse was sharp, and the spikes entered
+her hands and feet, and pricked her as she turned
+herself about between the bushes to bring herself deeper
+among them.</p>
+
+<p>From where she lay she could see the faintly illumined
+horizon, and against that horizon figures were visible,
+one&mdash;then another&mdash;a third&mdash;she could not count accurately,
+for there came several together; but she was convinced
+there must have been over a dozen men.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a&rsquo;most too rough to-night, I reckon,&rdquo; said one of
+the men.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, it is not&mdash;the wind is not direct on shore.
+They&rsquo;ll try it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Coppinger and his chaps are down in the cove
+already,&rdquo; said a third. &ldquo;They wouldn&rsquo;t go out if they
+wasn&rsquo;t expecting the boats from the Black Prince.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are sure they&rsquo;re down, Wyvill?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sure and sartain. I seed &rsquo;em pass, and mighty little
+I liked to let &rsquo;em go by&mdash;without a pop from my pistol.
+But I&rsquo;d my orders. No orders against the pistol going
+off of itself, Captain, if I have a chance presently?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>No answer was given to this; but he who had been
+addressed as Captain asked&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are the asses out?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; a whole score, I reckon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then they&rsquo;ll come up the mule path. We must watch
+that. Lieutenant Hanson will be ready with the cutter
+to run out and stop their way back by water to the
+Prince. The Prince&rsquo;s men will take to the sea, and he&rsquo;ll
+settle with them; but Coppinger&rsquo;s men will run up the
+cliffs, and we must tackle them. Go on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Several now disappeared into the darkness, moving
+toward the sea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here, a word with you, Wyvill,&rdquo; said the Captain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Right, sir&mdash;here I be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dash it!&mdash;it is so dark! Here, step back&mdash;a word
+in your ear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Right you are, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They came on to the turf close to where Judith
+crouched.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; said the Captain, hastily.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>104]</a></span>
+&ldquo;What, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought I trod on something like cloth. Have you
+a light?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir! Home has the dark lantern.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose it is nothing. What is all that dark stuff
+there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll see, sir,&rdquo; said Wyvill, stooping, and
+with his hand. &ldquo;By George, sir! it&rsquo;s naught but fuzz.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, Wyvill&mdash;a word between us. I know that
+if you have the chance you intend to send a bullet into
+Coppinger. I don&rsquo;t blame you. I won&rsquo;t say I wouldn&rsquo;t
+do it&mdash;unofficially&mdash;but looky&rsquo; here, man, if you can manage
+without a bullet&mdash;say a blow with the butt-end on
+his forehead and a roll over the cliffs&mdash;I&rsquo;d prefer it. In
+self-defence of course we must use fire-arms. But there&rsquo;s
+some squeamish stomachs, you understand; and if it
+can come about accidentally, as it were&mdash;as if he&rsquo;d missed
+his footing&mdash;I&rsquo;d prefer it. Make it pleasant all around,
+if you can.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir; leave it to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It oughtn&rsquo;t to be difficult, you know, Wyvill. I hear
+he&rsquo;s broke one arm, so is like to be insecure in his hold
+climbing the cliffs. Then no questions asked, and more
+pleasant, you know. You understand me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir; thank you, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then they went on, and were lost to sight and to
+hearing. For some minutes Judith did not stir. She
+lay, recovering her breath; she had hardly ventured to
+breathe while the two men were by her, the Captain
+with his foot on her skirt. Now she remained motionless,
+to consider what was to be done. It was of no
+further use her going on to Pentyre Glaze. Coppinger
+had left it. Wyvill, who had been planted as spy, had
+seen him with his carriers defile out of the lane with
+the asses that were to bring up the smuggled goods from
+the shore.</p>
+
+<p>She dare not take the path by which on the preceding
+afternoon she had descended with Jamie to the beach,
+for it was guarded by the Preventive men.</p>
+
+<p>There was but one way by which she could reach the
+shore and warn Coppinger, and that was by the chimney
+of the cave&mdash;a way dangerous in daylight, one, moreover,
+not easy to find at night. The mouth of the chimney
+opened upon a ledge that overhung the sea half-way
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>105]</a></span>
+down the face of the precipice, and this ledge could only
+be reached by a narrow track&mdash;a track apparently traced
+by sheep.</p>
+
+<p>Judith thought that she might find her way to that
+part of the down from which the descent was to be
+made; for she had noticed that what is locally called a
+&ldquo;new-take&rdquo; wall came near it, and if she could hit
+this wall, she believed she could trace it up to where it
+approached the cliff: and the track descended somewhere
+thereabouts. She waited where she lay till the
+heavy clouds rolled by, and for a brief space the sky was
+comparatively clear. Then she rose, and took the direction
+in which she ought to go to reach the &ldquo;new-take&rdquo;
+wall. As she went over the down, she heard the sea
+roaring threateningly; on her left hand the glint of the
+light-house on Trevose Head gave her the direction she
+must pursue. But, on a down like that, with a precipice
+on one hand, in a light, uncertain at best, often in complete
+darkness, it was dangerous to advance except by
+thrusting the foot forward tentatively before taking a
+step. The sea and the gnawing winds caused the cliffs
+to crumble; bits were eaten out of the surface, and in
+places there were fissures in the turf where a rent had
+formed, and where shortly a mass would fall.</p>
+
+<p>It is said that the duties on customs were originally
+instituted in order to enable the Crown to afford protection
+to trade against pirates. The pirates ceased to infest
+the seas, but the duties were not only taken off, but
+were increased, and became a branch of the public revenue.
+Perhaps some consciousness that the profits were
+not devoted to the purpose originally intended, bred in
+the people on the coast a feeling of resentment against
+the imposition of duties. There certainly existed an
+impression, a conviction rather, that the violation of a
+positive law of this nature was in no respect criminal.
+Adventurers embarked in the illicit traffic without
+scruple, as they did in poaching. The profit was great,
+and the danger run enhanced the excitement of the pursuit,
+and gave a sort of heroic splendor to the achievements
+of the successful smuggler.</p>
+
+<p>The Government, to stop a traffic that injured legitimate
+trade and affected the revenue, imposed severe
+penalties. Smuggling was classed among the felonies,
+&ldquo;without benefit of clergy,&rdquo; the punishment for which
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>106]</a></span>
+was death and confiscation of goods. The consciousness
+that they would be dealt with with severity did not deter
+bold men from engaging in the traffic, but made them
+desperate in self-defence when caught. Conflicts with
+revenue officers were not uncommon, and lives were lost
+on both sides. The smugglers were not bound together
+by any link, and sometimes one gang was betrayed by
+another, so as to divert suspicion and attention from
+their own misdeeds, or out of jealousy, or on account of
+a quarrel. It was so on this occasion: the success of Coppinger,
+the ingenuity with which he had carried on his
+defiance of the law, caused envy of him, because he was
+a foreigner&mdash;was, at all events, not a Cornishman; this
+had induced a rival to give notice to the Revenue officers,
+through Scantlebray&mdash;a convenient go-between in a good
+many questionable negotiations. The man who betrayed
+Coppinger dared not be seen entering into communication
+with the officers of the law. He, therefore, employed
+Scantlebray as the vehicle through whom, without suspicion
+resting on himself, his rival might be fallen upon
+and his proceedings brought to an end.</p>
+
+<p>It was now very dark. Judith had reached and touched
+a wall; but in the darkness lost her bearings. The Trevose
+light was no longer visible, and directly she left the
+wall to strike outward she became confused as
+direction, and in the darkness groped along with her
+feet, stretching her hands before her. Then the rain
+came down, lashing in her face. The wind had shifted
+somewhat during the evening, and it was no guidance to
+Judith to feel from what quarter the rain drove against
+her. Moreover, the cove formed a great curve in the
+coast-line, and was indented deeply in some places, so
+that to grope round the edge without light in quest of a
+point only seen or noticed once, seemed a desperate venture.
+Suddenly Judith&rsquo;s foot caught. It was entangled,
+and she could not disengage it. She stooped, and put
+her hand on a chain. It was Jamie&rsquo;s steel dog-chain, one
+link of which had caught in a tuft of rest-harrow.</p>
+
+<p>She had found the spot she wanted, and now waited
+only till the rain had rushed further inland, and a fringe
+of light appeared in the sky, to advance to the very edge
+of the cliff. She found it expedient to stoop as she proceeded,
+so as to discover some indications of the track.
+There were depressions where feet had worn the turf,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>107]</a></span>
+and she set hers therein, and sought the next. Thus,
+creeping and groping, she neared the edge.</p>
+
+<p>And now came the moment of supreme peril, when,
+trusting that she had found the right path, she must go
+over the brink. If she were mistaken, the next step
+would send her down two hundred feet, to where she
+heard the roar, and felt the breath of the sea stream up
+to her from the abyss. Here she could distinguish nothing;
+she must trust to Providence to guide her steps.
+She uttered a short and earnest prayer, and then boldly
+descended. She could not stoop now. To stoop was to
+dive headlong down. She felt her way, however, with
+her feet, reached one firm station, then another. Her
+hands touched the grass and earth of the ragged margin,
+then with another step she was below it, and held to the
+rain-splashed fangs of rock.</p>
+
+<p>Clinging, with her face inward, feeling with her feet,
+and never sure but that the next moment might see her
+launched into air, she stole onward, slowly, cautiously,
+and ever with the gnawing dread in her heart lest she
+should be too late. One intense point of consciousness
+stood out in her brain&mdash;it told her that if, while thus
+creeping down, there should come the flash and explosion
+of fire-arms, her courage would fail, her head
+would spin, and she would be lost.</p>
+
+<p>How long she was descending she could not tell, how
+many steps she took was unknown to her&mdash;she had not
+counted&mdash;but it seemed to her an entire night that
+passed, with every change of position an hour was
+marked; then, at last, she was conscious that she stood
+on more level ground. She had reached the terrace.</p>
+
+<p>A little further, and on her left hand, would open the
+mouth of the shaft, and she must descend that, in profoundest
+darkness. A cry! A light flashed into her
+eyes and dazzled her. A hand at the same moment
+clutched her, or she would have reeled back and gone
+over the cliff.</p>
+
+<p>The light was held to pour over her face. Who held
+it and who grasped her she could not see; but she knew
+the moment she heard a voice exclaim&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In her terror and exhaustion she could but gasp for
+breath for a few moments.</p>
+
+<p>By degrees her firmness and resolution returned, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>108]</a></span>
+she exclaimed, in broken tones, panting between every
+few words&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Cruel!&mdash;you are betrayed&mdash;they are after
+you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He did not press her. He waited till she could speak
+again, lowering the lantern.</p>
+
+<p>Then, without the glare in her eyes, she was able to
+speak more freely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is a boat&mdash;a Revenue cutter&mdash;waiting in the
+bay&mdash;and&mdash;above&mdash;are the Preventive men&mdash;and they
+will kill you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;And you have come to warn
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me&mdash;are there any above, where you came
+down!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None; they are on the ass-path.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can you ascend as you came down?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He extinguished his lantern, or covered it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must no more show light. I must warn those below.&rdquo;
+He paused, then said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dare you mount alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I came down alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then do this one thing more for me. Mount, and go
+to Pentyre. Tell your aunt&mdash;three lights&mdash;red, white,
+red; then ten minutes, and then, red, red, white. Can
+you remember? Repeat after me: &lsquo;Three lights&mdash;red,
+white, red; then, ten minutes, and next, red, red, and
+white.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith repeated the words.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is right. Lose no time. I dare not give you a
+light. None must now be shown. The boat from the
+Black Prince is not in&mdash;this lantern was her guide. Now
+it is out she will go back. You will remember the signals?
+I thank you for what you have done. There is
+but one woman would have done it, and that Judith.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stepped inside the shaft to descend. When hidden,
+he allowed his light again to show, to assist him in his
+way down. Judith only waited till her eyes, that had
+been dazzled by the light, were recovered, and then she
+braced herself to resume her climb; but now it was to be
+up the cliff.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>109]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XV.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">CHAINED.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>To ascend is easier than to go down. Judith was no
+longer alarmed. There was danger still, that was inevitable;
+but the danger was as nothing now to what it
+had been. It is one thing to descend in total darkness
+into an abyss where one knows that below are sharp
+rocks, and a drop of two hundred feet to a thundering,
+raging sea, racing up the sand, pouring over the shelves
+of rock, foaming where divided waves clash. When Judith
+had been on the beach in the afternoon the tide was
+out; now it was flowing, and had swept over all that
+tract of white sand and pebble where she had walked.
+She could not indeed now see the water, but she heard
+the thud of a billow as it smote a rock, the boil and the
+hiss of the waves and spray. To step downward, groping
+the way, with a depth and a wild-throbbing sea beneath,
+demanded courage, and courage of no mean order;
+but it was other to mount, to be able to feel with the
+foot the ascent in the track, and to grope upward with
+the hand from one point of clutch to another, to know
+that every step upward was lessening the peril, and
+bringing nearer to the sward and to safety.</p>
+
+<p>Without great anxiety, therefore, Judith turned to
+climb. Cruel Coppinger had allowed her to essay it unaided.
+Would he have done that had he thought it involved
+danger, or, rather, serious danger? Judith was
+sure he would not. His confidence that she could climb
+to the summit unassisted made her confident. As she
+had descended she had felt an interior qualm and sinking
+at every step she took; there was no such sensation
+now as she mounted.</p>
+
+<p>She was not much inconvenienced by the wind, for the
+wind was not directly on shore; but it soughed about
+her, and eddies caught her cloak and jerked it. It would
+have been better had she left her cloak above on the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>110]</a></span>
+turf. It incommoded her in her climb; it caught in the
+prongs of rock.</p>
+
+<p>The rain, the water running off the rock, had wet her
+shoes, soaked them, and every step was in moisture that
+oozed out of them. She was glad now to rest on her
+right hand. In descending, the left had felt and held
+the rock, and it had been rubbed and cut. Probably it
+was bleeding.</p>
+
+<p>Surely there was a little more light in the sky where
+the sky showed between the dense masses of vapor. Judith
+did not observe this, for she did not look aloft; but
+she could see a steely tract of sea, fretted into foam, reflecting
+an illumination from above, greater than the
+twilight could cast. Then she remembered that there
+had been a moon a few nights before, and thought that it
+was probably risen by this time.</p>
+
+<p>Something chill and wet brushed her face. It startled
+her for a moment, and then she knew by the scent that
+it was a bunch of samphire growing out of the side of
+the crag.</p>
+
+<p>Shrill in her ear came the scream of a gull that rushed
+by in the darkness, and she felt, or believed she felt, the
+fan from the wings. Again it screamed, and near the
+ear it pierced her brain like an awl, and then again, still
+nearer, unnerving her. In the darkness she fancied that
+this gull was about to attack her with beak and claws,
+and she put up her left arm as a protection to her eyes.
+Then there broke out a jabber of sea-birds&rsquo; voices, laughing
+mockingly, at a little distance.</p>
+
+<p>Whither had she got!</p>
+
+<p>The way was no longer easy&mdash;one step before another&mdash;there
+was a break of continuity in the path, if path the
+track could be called.</p>
+
+<p>Judith stood still, and put forward her foot to test the
+rock in front. There was no place where it could rest.
+Had she, bewildered by that gull, diverged from the
+track? It would be well to retreat a few steps. She endeavored
+to do this, and found that she encountered a
+difficulty in finding the place where she had just planted
+her foot.</p>
+
+<p>It was but too certain that she was off the track line.
+How to recover it she knew not. With the utmost difficulty
+she did reach a point in her rear where she could
+stand, clinging to the rock; but she clung now with both
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>111]</a></span>
+hands. There was no tuft of samphire to brush her face
+as she descended. She must have got wrong before she
+touched that. But where was the samphire? She cautiously
+felt along the surface of the crag in quest of it,
+but could not find it. There was, however, a little above
+her shoulder, a something that felt like a ledge, and
+which might be the track. If she had incautiously crept
+forward at a level without ascending rapidly enough, she
+was probably below the track. Could she climb to this
+point&mdash;climb up the bare rock, with sheer precipice below
+her? And, supposing that the shelf she felt with
+her hand were not the track, could she descend again to
+the place where she had been?</p>
+
+<p>Her brain spun. She lost all notion as to where she
+might be&mdash;perhaps she was below the path, perhaps she
+was above it. She could not tell. She stood with arms
+extended, clinging to the rock, and her heart beat in
+bounds against the flinty surface. The clasp of her
+cloak was pressing on her throat, and strangling her.
+The wind had caught the garment, and was playing with
+the folds, carrying it out and flapping it behind her over
+the gulf. It was irksome; it was a danger to her. She
+cautiously slid one hand to her neck, unhasped the mantle,
+and it was snatched from her shoulders and carried
+away. She was lighter without it, could move with
+greater facility; cold she was not, wet she might become,
+but what mattered that if she could reach the top
+of the cliff?</p>
+
+<p>Not only on her own account was Judith alarmed.
+She had undertaken a commission. She had promised
+to bear a message to her aunt from Coppinger that concerned
+the safety of his men. What the signal meant
+she did not know, but suspected that it conveyed a message
+of danger.</p>
+
+<p>She placed both her hands on the ledge, and felt with
+her knee for some point on which to rest it, to assist her
+in lifting herself from where she stood to the higher
+elevation. There was a small projection, and after a
+moment&rsquo;s hesitation she drew her foot from the shelf
+whereon it had rested and leaned the left knee on this
+hunch. Then she clung with both hands, and with them
+and her knee endeavored to heave herself up about four
+feet, that is, to the height of her shoulders. A convulsive
+quiver seized on her muscles. She was sustained
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>112]</a></span>
+by a knee and her hands only. If they gave way she
+could not trust to recover her previous lodgement place.
+One desperate strain, and she was on the ledge, on both
+knees, and was feeling with her hands to ascertain if she
+had found the track. Her fingers touched thrift and
+passed over turf. She had not reached what she sought.
+She was probably farther from it than before. As all
+her members were quivering after the effort, she seated
+herself on the shelf she had reached, leaned back against
+the wet rock, and waited till her racing pulses had recovered
+evenness of flow, and her muscles had overcome
+the first effects of their tension.</p>
+
+<p>Her position was desperate. Rain and perspiration
+mingled dripped from her brow, ran over and blinded
+her eyes. Her breath came in sobs between her parted
+lips. Her ears were full of the booming of the surge
+far below, and the scarcely less noisy throb of her blood
+in her pulses.</p>
+
+<p>When she had started on her adventurous expedition
+she had seen some stars that had twinkled down on her,
+and had appeared to encourage her. Now, not a star
+was visible, only, far off on the sea, a wan light that fell
+through a rent in the black canopy over an angry deep.
+Beyond that all was darkness, between her and that all
+was darkness.</p>
+
+<p>As she recovered her self-possession, with the abatement
+of the tumult in her blood she was able to review
+her position, and calculate her chances of escape from
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Up the track from the cave the smugglers would almost
+certainly escape, because that was the only way,
+unwatched, by which they could leave the beach without
+falling into the hands of the Preventive men.</p>
+
+<p>If they came by the path&mdash;that path could not be far
+off, though in which direction it lay she could not guess.
+She would call, and then Coppinger or some of his men
+would come to her assistance.</p>
+
+<p>By this means alone could she escape. There was
+nothing for her to do but to wait.</p>
+
+<p>She bent forward and looked down. She might have
+been looking into a well; but a little way out she could
+see, or imagine she saw, the white fringes of surf stealing
+in. There was not sufficient light for her to be certain
+whether she really saw foam, or whether her fancy,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>113]</a></span>
+excited by the thunder of the tide, made her suppose
+she saw it.</p>
+
+<p>The shelf she occupied was narrow and inclined; if she
+slipped from it she could not trust to maintain herself
+on the lower shelf, certainly not if she slid down in a
+condition of unconsciousness. And now reaction after
+the strain was setting in, and she feared lest she might
+faint. In her pocket was the dog-chain that had caught
+her foot. She extracted that now, and groping along the
+wall of rock behind her, caught a stout tuft of coarse
+heather, wiry, well rooted; and she took the little steel
+chain and wound it about the branches and stem of the
+plant, and also about her wrist&mdash;her right wrist&mdash;so as
+to fasten her to the wall. That was some relief to her
+to know that in the event of her dropping out of consciousness
+there was something to hold her up, though
+that was only the stem of an erica, and her whole weight
+would rest on its rootlets. Would they suffice to sustain
+her? It was doubtful; but there was nothing else on
+which she could depend.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a stone whizzed past, struck the ledge, and
+rebounded. Then came a shower of earth and pebbles.
+They did not touch her, but she heard them clatter down.</p>
+
+<p>Surely they had been displaced by a foot, and that a
+foot passing above.</p>
+
+<p>Then she heard a shot&mdash;also overhead, and a cry. She
+looked aloft, and saw against the half-translucent vapors
+a black struggling figure on the edge of the cliff. She
+saw it but for an instant, and then was struck on the face
+by an open hand, and a body crashed on to the shelf at
+her side, rolled over the edge, and plunged into the
+gulf below.</p>
+
+<p>She tried to cry, but her voice failed her. She felt her
+cheek stung by the blow she had received. A feeling as
+though all the rock were sinking under her came on, as
+though she were sliding&mdash;not shooting&mdash;but sliding
+down, down, and the sky went up higher, higher&mdash;and
+she knew no more.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>114]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">ON THE SHINGLE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The smugglers, warned by Coppinger, had crept up
+the path in silence, and singly, at considerable intervals
+between each, and on reaching the summit of the cliffs
+had dispersed to their own homes, using the precaution
+to strike inland first, over the &ldquo;new-take&rdquo; wall.</p>
+
+<p>As the last of the party reached the top he encountered
+one of the coast-guards, who, by the orders of his superior,
+was patrolling the down to watch that the smugglers did
+not leave the cove by any other path than the one known&mdash;that
+up and down which donkeys were driven. This
+donkey-driving to the beach was not pursued solely for
+the sake of contraband; the beasts brought up loads of
+sand, which the farmers professed they found valuable as
+manure on their stiff soil, and also the masses of seaweed
+cast on the strand after a gale, and which was considered
+to be possessed of rare fertilizing qualities.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner did the coast-guard see a man ascend the
+cliff, or rather come up over the edge before him, than he
+fired his pistol to give the signal to his fellows, whereupon
+the smuggler turned, seized him by the throat, and
+precipitated him over the edge.</p>
+
+<p>Of this Coppinger knew nothing. He had led the procession,
+and had made his way to Pentyre Glaze by a
+roundabout route, so as to evade a guard set to watch for
+him approaching from the cliffs, should one have been so
+planted.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching his door, his first query was whether the
+signals had been made.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What signals?&rdquo; asked Miss Trevisa.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I sent a messenger here with instructions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No messenger has been here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, no one&mdash;not&mdash;&rdquo; he hesitated, and said, &ldquo;not
+a woman?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a soul has been here&mdash;man, woman, or child&mdash;since
+you left.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>115]</a></span>
+&ldquo;No one to see you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No one at all, Captain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger did not remove his hat; he stood in the
+doorway biting his thumb. Was it possible that Judith
+had shrunk from coming to his house to bear the message?
+Yet she had promised to do so. Had she been
+intercepted by the Preventive men? Had&mdash;had she
+reached the top of the cliff? Had she, after reaching the
+top, lost her way in the dark, taken a false direction,
+and&mdash;Coppinger did not allow the thought to find
+full expression in his brain. He turned, without another
+word, and hastened to the cottage of Mr. Menaida. He
+must ascertain whether she had reached home.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zachie had not retired to bed; Scantlebray had
+been gone an hour; Zachie had drunk with Scantlebray,
+and he had drunk after the departure of that individual
+to indemnify himself for the loss of his company. Consequently
+Mr. Menaida was confused in mind and thick
+in talk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Judith?&rdquo; asked Coppinger, bursting in on
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In bed, I suppose,&rdquo; answered Uncle Zachie, after a
+while, when he comprehended the question, and had had
+time to get over his surprise at seeing the Captain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you sure? When did she come in?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come in?&rdquo; said the old man, scratching his forehead
+with his pipe. &ldquo;Come in&mdash;bless you, I don&rsquo;t know;
+some time in the afternoon. Yes, to be sure it was,
+some time in the afternoon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But she has been out to-night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;no&mdash;no,&rdquo; said Uncle Zachie, &ldquo;it was Scantlebray.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say she has&mdash;she has been to&mdash;&rdquo; he paused, then
+said&mdash;&ldquo;to see her aunt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt Dunes! bless my heart, when?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Impossible!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I say she has. Come, Mr. Menaida. Go up to
+her room, knock at the door, and ascertain if she be
+back. Her aunt is alarmed&mdash;there are rough folks about.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, bless me!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Menaida, &ldquo;so there
+are. And&mdash;well, wonders&rsquo;ll never cease. How came you
+here! I thought the guard were after you. Scantlebray
+said so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>116]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Will you go at once and see if Judith Trevisa is
+home?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger spoke with such vehemence, and looked so
+threateningly at the old man, that he staggered out of
+his chair, and, still holding his pipe, went to the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless me!&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;whatever am I about? I&rsquo;ve
+forgot a candle. Would you oblige me with lighting
+one? My hand shakes, and I might light my fingers by
+mistake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After what seemed to Coppinger to be an intolerable
+length of time, Uncle Zachie stumbled down the stairs
+again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say,&rdquo; said Mr. Menaida, standing on the steps,
+&ldquo;Captain&mdash;did you ever hear about Tincombe Lane?&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem25">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&lsquo;Tincombe Lane is all up-hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or down hill, as you take it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You tumble up and crack your crown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or tumble down and break it.&rsquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&mdash;It&rsquo;s the same with these blessed stairs. Would you
+mind lending me a hand? By the powers, the banister
+is not firm! Do you know how it goes on?&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem25">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&lsquo;Tincombe Lane is crooked and straight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As pot-hook or as arrow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&rsquo;Tis smooth to foot, &rsquo;tis full of rut,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&rsquo;Tis wide and then &rsquo;tis narrow.&rsquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&mdash;Thank you, sir, thank you. Now take the candle.
+Bah! I&rsquo;ve broke my pipe&mdash;and then comes the moral&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem25">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&lsquo;Tincombe Lane is just like life<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From when you leave your mother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&rsquo;Tis sometimes this, &rsquo;tis sometimes that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&rsquo;Tis one thing or the other.&rsquo;&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>In vain had Coppinger endeavored to interrupt the
+flow of words, and to extract from thick Zachie the information
+he needed, till the old gentleman was back in
+his chair.</p>
+
+<p>Then Uncle Zachie observed&mdash;&ldquo;Blessy&rsquo;&mdash;I said so&mdash;I
+said so a thousand times. No&mdash;she&rsquo;s not there. Tell
+Aunt Dunes so. Will you sit down and have a drop?
+The night is rough, and it will do you good&mdash;take the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>117]</a></span>
+chill out of your stomach and the damp out of your
+chest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Coppinger did not wait to decline the offer. He
+turned at once, left the house, and dashed the door back
+as he stepped out into the night. He had not gone a
+hundred paces along the road before he heard voices,
+and recognized that of Mr. Scantlebray&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I tell you the vessel is the Black Prince, and I know
+he was to have unloaded her to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Anyhow he is not doing so. Not a sign of him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The night is too dirty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wyvill&mdash;&rdquo; Coppinger knew that the Captain at the
+head of the coast-guard was speaking. &ldquo;Wyvill, I heard
+a pistol-shot. Where is Jenkyns? If you had not been
+by me I should have said you had acted wide of your
+orders. Has any one seen Jenkyns?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a light flashed forth, and glared upon Coppinger.
+The Captain in command of the coast-guard
+uttered an oath.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You out to-night, Mr. Coppinger! Where do you
+come from?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As you see&mdash;from Polzeath.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humph! From no other direction?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll trouble you to let me pass.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger thrust the Preventive man aside, and went
+on his way.</p>
+
+<p>When he was beyond earshot, Scantlebray said&mdash;&ldquo;I
+trust he did not notice me along with you. You see,
+the night is too dirty. Let him bless his stars, it has
+saved him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to see Jenkyns,&rdquo; said the officer. &ldquo;I
+am almost certain I heard a pistol-shot; but when I sent
+in the direction whence it came, there was no one to be
+seen. It&rsquo;s a confounded dark night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope they&rsquo;ve not give us the slip, Captain?&rdquo; said
+Wyvill.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Impossible,&rdquo; answered the officer. &ldquo;Impossible. I
+took every precaution. They did not go out to-night.
+As Mr. Scantlebray says, the night was too dirty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then they went on.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime Coppinger was making the best of
+his way to the downs. He knew his direction even in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>118]</a></span>
+the dark&mdash;he had the &ldquo;new-take&rdquo; wall as a guide. What
+the coast-guard did not suspect was that this &ldquo;new-take&rdquo;
+had been made for the very purpose of serving as a guide
+by which the smugglers could find their course in the
+blackest of winter&rsquo;s nights; moreover, in the fiercest
+storm the wall served as a shelter, under lea of which
+they might approach their cave. Coppinger was without
+a lantern. He doubted if one would avail him, in
+his quest; moreover, the night was lightening, as the
+moon rode higher.</p>
+
+<p>The smuggler captain stood for a moment on the edge
+of the cliffs to consider what course he should adopt to
+find Judith. If she had reached the summit, it was possible
+enough that she had lost her way and had rambled
+inland among lanes and across fields, pixy-led. In that
+case it was a hopeless task to search for her; moreover,
+there would be no particular necessity for him to do so,
+as, sooner or later, she must reach a cottage or a farm,
+where she could learn her direction. But if she had
+gone too near the edge, or if, in her ascent, her foot had
+slipped, then he must search the shore. The tide was
+ebbing now, and left a margin on which he could walk.
+This was the course he must adopt. He did not descend
+by the track to the chimney, as the creeping down of
+the latter could be effected in absolute darkness only
+with extreme risk; but he bent his way over the down
+skirting the crescent indentation of the cove to the donkey-path,
+which was now, as he knew, unwatched. By
+that he swiftly and easily descended to the beach. Along
+the shore he crept carefully toward that portion which
+was overhung by the precipice along which the way ran
+from the mouth of the shaft. The night was mending,
+or at all events seemed better. The moon, as it mounted,
+cast a glimmer through the least opaque portions of the
+driving clouds. Coppinger looked up, and could see the
+ragged fringe of down torn with gullies, and thrust up
+into prongs, black as ink against the gray of the half-translucent
+vapors. And near at hand was the long dorsal
+ridge that concealed the entrance to the cave, sloping
+rapidly upward and stretching away before him into
+shadow.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger mused. If one were to fall from above,
+would he drop between the cliff and this curtain, or
+would he strike and be projected over it on to the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>119]</a></span>
+shelving sand up which stole the waves? He knew that
+the water eddying against friable sandstone strata that
+came to the surface had eaten them out with the wash,
+and that the hard flakes of slate and ribs of quartz stood
+forth, overhanging the cave. Most certainly, therefore,
+had Judith fallen, her body must be sought on the sea-face
+of the masking ridge. The smuggler stood at the
+very point where in the preceding afternoon Jamie and
+the dog had scrambled up that fin-like blade of rock and
+disappeared from the astonished gaze of Judith. The
+moon, smothered behind clouds, and yet, in a measure
+self-assertive, cast sufficient light down into the cove to
+glitter on, and transmute into steel, the sea-washed and
+smoothed, and still wet, ridge, sloping inland as a seawall.
+As Coppinger stood looking upward he saw in
+the uncertain light something caught on the fangs of
+this saw-ridge, moving uneasily this way, then that,
+something dark, obscuring the glossed surface of the
+rock, as it might be a mass of gigantic sea-tangles.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Is that you?&rdquo; and he plunged
+through the pool that intervened, and scrambled up the
+rock.</p>
+
+<p>He caught something. It was cloth. &ldquo;Judith! Judith!&rdquo;
+he almost shrieked in anxiety. That which he
+had laid hold of yielded, and he gathered to him a garment
+of some sort, and with it he slid back into the pool,
+and waded on to the pebbles. Then he examined his
+capture by the uncertain light, and by feel, and convinced
+himself that it was a cloak&mdash;a cloak with clasp
+and hood&mdash;just such as he had seen Judith wearing
+when he flashed his lantern over her on the platform at
+the mouth of the shaft.</p>
+
+<p>He stood for a moment, numbed as though he had
+been struck on the head with a mallet, and irresolute.
+He had feared that Judith had fallen over the edge, but
+he had hoped that it was not so. This discovery seemed
+to confirm his worst fears.</p>
+
+<p>If the cloak were there&mdash;she also would probably be
+there also, a broken heap. She who had thrown him
+down and broken him, had been thrown down herself,
+and broken also&mdash;thrown down and broken because she
+had come to rescue him from danger. Coppinger put
+his hand to his head. His veins were beating as though
+they would burst the vessels in his temples, and suffuse
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>120]</a></span>
+his face with blood. As he stood thus clasping his brow
+with his right hand, the clouds were swept for an instant
+aside, and for an instant the moon sent down a
+weird glare that ran like a wave along the sand, leaped
+impediments, scrambled up rocks, and flashed in the
+pools. For one moment only&mdash;but that sufficed to reveal
+to him a few paces ahead a black heap: there was
+no mistaking it. The rounded outlines were not those
+of a rock. It was a human body lying on the shingle
+half immersed in the pool at the foot of the reef!</p>
+
+<p>A cry of intensest, keenest anguish burst from the
+heart of Coppinger. Prepared though he was for what
+he must see by the finding of the cloak, the sight of
+that motionless and wrecked body was more than he
+could endure with composure. In the darkness that ensued
+after the moon-gleam he stepped forward, slowly,
+even timidly, to where that human wreck lay, and knelt
+on both knees beside it on the wet sand.</p>
+
+<p>He waited. Would the moon shine out again and
+show him what he dreaded seeing? He would not put
+down a hand to touch it. One still clasped his brow,
+the other he could not raise so high, and he held it
+against his breast where it had lately been strapped.
+He tried to hold his breath, to hear if any sound issued
+from what lay before him. He strained his eyes to see
+if there were any, the slightest movement in it. Yet he
+knew there could be none. A fall from these cliffs above
+must dash every spark of life out of a body that reeled
+down them. He turned his eyes upward to see if the
+cloud would pass; but no&mdash;it seemed to be one that was
+all-enveloping, unwilling to grant him that glimpse
+which must be had, but which would cause him acutest
+anguish.</p>
+
+<p>He could not remain kneeling there in suspense any
+longer. In uncertainty he was not. The horror was before
+him&mdash;and must be faced.</p>
+
+<p>He thrust his hand into his pocket and drew forth
+tinder-box and flint. With a hand that had never trembled
+before, but now shaking as with an ague, he struck
+a light. The sparks flew about, and were long in igniting
+the touchwood. But finally it was kindled, and
+glowed red. The wind fanned it into fitful flashes, as
+Coppinger, stooping, held the lurid spark over the
+prostrate form, and passed it up and down on the face.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>121]</a></span>
+Then suddenly it fell from his hand, and he drew a
+gasp. The dead face was that of a bearded man.</p>
+
+<p>A laugh&mdash;a wild, boisterous laugh&mdash;rang out into the
+night, and was re-echoed by the cliff, as Coppinger
+leaped to his feet. There was hope still. Judith had
+not fallen.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>122]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">FOR LIFE OR DEATH.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Coppinger did not hesitate a moment now to leave
+the corpse on the beach where he had found it, and to
+hasten to the cave.</p>
+
+<p>There was a third alternative to which hitherto he had
+given no attention. Judith, in ascending the cliff, might
+have strayed from the track, and be in such a position
+that she could neither advance nor draw back. He
+would, therefore, explore the path from the chimney
+mouth, and see if any token could be found of her having
+so done.</p>
+
+<p>He again held his smouldering tinder and by this
+feeble glimmer made his way up the inclined beach
+within the cave, passed under the arch of the rock where
+low, and found himself in that portion where was the
+boat.</p>
+
+<p>Here he knew of a receptacle for sundries, such as
+might be useful in an emergency, and to that he made
+his way, and drew from it a piece of candle and a lantern.
+He speedily lighted the candle, set it in the lantern, and
+then ascended the chimney.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the platform at the orifice in the face of
+the rock, it occurred to him that he had forgotten to
+bring rope with him. He would not return for that,
+unless he found a need for it. Rope there was below,
+of many yards length. Till he knew that it was required,
+it seemed hardly worth his while to encumber
+himself with a coil that might be too long or too short
+for use. He did not even know that he would find
+Judith. It was a chance, that was all. It was more
+probable that she had strayed on the down, and was
+now back at Polzeath, and safe and warm in bed.</p>
+
+<p>From the ledge in front of the shaft Coppinger proceeded
+with caution and leisure, exploring every portion
+of the ascent with lowered lantern. There were plenty
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>123]</a></span>
+of impressions of feet wherever the soft and crumbly
+beds had been traversed, and where the dissolved stone
+had been converted into clay or mud, but these were the
+impressions of the smugglers escaping from their den.
+Step by step he mounted, till he had got about half-way
+up, when he noticed, what he had not previously observed,
+that there was a point at which the track left the
+ledge of stratified vertical rock that had inclined its
+broken edge upward, and by a series of slips mounted
+to another fractured stratum, a leaf of the story-book
+turned up with the record of infinite ages sealed up in
+it. It was possible that one unacquainted with the
+course might grope onward, following the ledge instead
+of deserting it for a direct upward climb. As Coppinger
+now perceived, one ignorant of the way and unprovided
+with a light would naturally follow the shelf. He accordingly
+deserted the track, and advanced along the
+ledge. There was a little turf in one place, in the next a
+tuft of armeria, then mud or clay, and there&mdash;assuredly a
+foot had trodden. There was a mark of a sole that was
+too small to have belonged to a man.</p>
+
+<p>The shelf at first was tolerably broad, and could be
+followed without risk by one whose head was steady;
+but for how long would it so continue? These rough
+edges, these lamin&aelig; of upheaved slate were treacherous&mdash;they
+were sometimes completely broken down, forming
+gaps, in places stridable, in others discontinuous for many
+yards.</p>
+
+<p>The footprints satisfied Coppinger that Judith had
+crept along this terrace, and so had missed the right
+course. It was impossible that she could reach the summit
+by this way&mdash;she must have fallen or be clinging
+at some point farther ahead, a point from which she
+could not advance, and feared to retreat.</p>
+
+<p>He held the lantern above his head, and peered before
+him, but could see nothing. The glare of the artificial
+light made the darkness beyond its radius the deeper
+and more impervious to the eye. He called, but received
+no answer. He called again, with as little success. He
+listened, but heard no other sound than the mutter of
+the sea, and the wail of the wind. There was nothing
+for him to do but to go forward; and he did that slowly,
+searchingly, with the light near the ground, seeking for
+some further trace of Judith. He was obliged to use
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>124]</a></span>
+caution, as the ledge of rock narrowed. Here it was
+hard, and the foot passing over it made no impression.
+Then ensued a rift and a slide of shale, and here he
+thought he observed indications of recent dislodgement.</p>
+
+<p>Now the foot-hold was reduced, he could no longer
+stoop to examine the soil; he must stand upright and
+hold to the rock with his right hand, and move with
+precaution lest he should be precipitated below.</p>
+
+<p>Was it conceivable that she had passed there?&mdash;there
+in the dark? And yet&mdash;if she had not, she must have
+been hurled below.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger, clinging with his fingers, and thrusting
+one foot before the other, then drawing forward that
+foot, with every faculty on the alert, passed to where, for
+a short space, the ledge of rock expanded, and there he
+stooped once more with the light to explore. Beyond
+was a sheer fall, and the dull glare from his lantern
+showed him no continuance of the shelf. As he arose
+from his bent position, suddenly the light fell on a hand&mdash;a
+delicate, childish hand&mdash;hanging down. He raised
+the lantern, and saw her whom he sought. At this point
+she had climbed upward to a higher ledge, and on that
+she lay, one arm raised, fastened by a chain to a tuft of
+heather&mdash;her head fallen against the rock, and feet and
+one arm over the edge of the cliff. She was unconscious,
+sustained by a dog-chain and a little bunch of
+ling.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger passed the candle over her face. It was
+white, and the eyes did not close before the light.</p>
+
+<p>His position was vastly difficult. She hung there
+chained to the cliff, and he doubted whether he could
+sustain her weight if he attempted to carry her back
+while she was unconscious, along the way he and she
+had come. It was perilous for one alone to move along
+that strip of surface; it seemed impossible for one to effect
+it bearing in his arms a human burden.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, Coppinger was well aware that his left arm
+had not recovered its strength. He could not trust her
+weight on that. He dare not trust it on his right arm,
+for to return by the way he came the right hand would
+be that which was toward the void. The principal
+weight must be thrown inward.</p>
+
+<p>What was to be done? This, primarily: to release
+the insensible girl from her present position, in which
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>125]</a></span>
+the agony of the strain on her shoulder perhaps prolonged
+her unconsciousness.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger mounted to the shelf on which she lay,
+and bowing himself over her, while holding her, so that
+she should not slip over the edge, he disentangled the
+chain from her wrist and the stems of the heather. Then
+he seated himself beside her, drew her toward him,
+with his right arm about her, and laid her head on his
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>And the chain?</p>
+
+<p>That he took and deliberately passed it round her
+waist and his own body, fastened it, and muttered, &ldquo;For
+life or for death!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There, for a while, he sat. He had set the lantern beside
+him. His hand was on Judith&rsquo;s heart, and he held
+his breath, and waited to feel if there was pulsation
+there; but his own arteries were in such agitation, the
+throb in his finger ends prevented his being able to satisfy
+himself as to what he desired to know.</p>
+
+<p>He could not remain longer in his present position.
+Judith might never revive. She had swooned through
+over-exhaustion, and nothing could restore her to life
+but the warmth and care she would receive in a house;
+he cursed his folly, his thoughtlessness, in having
+brought with him no flask of brandy. He dared remain
+no longer where he was, the ebbing powers in the feeble
+life might sink beyond recall.</p>
+
+<p>He thrust his right arm under her, and adjusted the
+chain about him so as to throw some of her weight off
+the arm, and then cautiously slid to the step below, and,
+holding her, set his back to the rocky wall.</p>
+
+<p>So, facing the Atlantic Ocean, facing the wild night
+sky, torn here and there into flakes of light, otherwise
+cloaked in storm-gloom, with the abyss below, an abyss
+of jagged rock and shingle shore, he began to make his
+way along the track by which he had gained that point.</p>
+
+<p>He was at that part where the shelf narrowed to a
+foot, and his safety and hers depended largely on the
+power that remained to him in his left arm. With the
+hand of that arm he felt along and clutched every projecting
+point of rock, and held to it with every sinew
+strained and starting. He drew a long breath. Was
+Judith stirring on his arm?</p>
+
+<p>The critical minute had come. The slightest
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>126]</a></span>
+movement, the least displacement of the balance, and both
+would be precipitated below.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith!&rdquo; said he, hoarsely, turning his head toward
+her ear. &ldquo;Judith!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith! For Heaven&rsquo;s sake&mdash;if you hear me&mdash;do not
+lift a finger. Do not move a muscle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The same heavy weight on him without motion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith! For life&mdash;or death!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly from off the ocean flashed a tiny spark&mdash;far,
+far away.</p>
+
+<p>It was a signal from the Black Prince.</p>
+
+<p>He saw it, fixed his eyes steadily on it, and began to
+move sideways, facing the sea, his back to the rock,
+reaching forward with his left arm, holding Judith in
+the right.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For life!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He took one step sideways, holding with the disengaged
+hand to the rock. The bone of that arm was but
+just knit. Not only so, but that of the collar was also
+recently sealed up after fracture. Yet the salvation of
+two lives hung on these two infirm joints. The arm was
+stiff; the muscles had not recovered flexibility, nor the
+sinews their strength.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For death!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A second sidelong step, and the projected foot slid in
+greasy marl. He dug his heel into the wet and yielding
+soil, he stamped in it; then, throwing all his weight on
+the left heel, aided by the left arm, he drew himself
+along and planted the right beside the left.</p>
+
+<p>He sucked the air in between his teeth with a hiss.
+The soft soil was sinking&mdash;it would break away. The
+light from the Black Prince seemed to rise. With a
+wrench he planted his left foot on rock&mdash;and drew up
+the right to it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith! For life!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That star on the black sea&mdash;what did it mean? He
+knew. His mind was clear, and though in intense concentration
+of all his powers on the effort to pass this
+strip of perilous path, he could reason of other things,
+and knew why the Black Prince had exposed her light.
+The lantern that he had borne, and left on the shelf, had
+been seen by her, and she supposed it to be a signal
+from the terrace over the cave.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>127]</a></span>
+The next step was full of peril. With his left foot advanced,
+Coppinger felt he had reached the shale. He
+kicked into it, and kicked away an avalanche of loose
+flakes that slid over the edge. But he drove his foot
+deep into the slope, and rammed a dent into which he
+could fix the right foot when drawn after it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For death!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he crept along upon the shale.</p>
+
+<p>He could not see the star now. His sweat, rolling off
+his brow, had run over his eyelids and charged the
+lashes with tears. In partial blindness he essayed the
+next step.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For life!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he breathed more freely. His foot was on the
+grass.</p>
+
+<p>The passage of extreme danger was over. From the
+point now reached the ledge widened, and Coppinger
+was able to creep onward with less stress laid on the
+fractured bones. The anguish of expectation of death
+was lightened; and as it lightened nature began to assert
+herself. His teeth chattered as in an ague fit, and
+his breath came in sobs.</p>
+
+<p>In ten minutes he had attained the summit&mdash;he was
+on the down above the cliffs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith,&rdquo; said he, and he kissed her cheeks and brow
+and hair. &ldquo;For life&mdash;for death&mdash;mine, only mine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>128]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">UNA.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>When Judith opened her eyes, she found herself in a
+strange room, but as she looked about her she saw Aunt
+Dionysia with her hands behind her back looking out of
+the window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, aunt! Where am I!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa turned.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you have come round at last, or pleased to pretend
+to come round. It is hard to tell whether or not
+dissimulation was here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dissimulation, aunt?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no saying. Young folks are not what they
+were in my day. They have neither the straightforwardness
+nor the consideration for their elders and betters.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;where am I?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At the Glaze; not where I put you, but where you
+have put yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not come here, auntie, dear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t auntie dear me, and deprive me of my natural
+sleep.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have I?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you not? Three nights have I had to sit up.
+And natural sleep is as necessary to me at my age as is
+stays. I fall abroad without one or the other. Give me
+my choice&mdash;whether I&rsquo;d have nephews and nieces crawling
+about me or erysipelas, and I&rsquo;d choose the latter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, aunt&mdash;I&rsquo;m sorry if I am a trouble to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course you are a trouble. How can you be other?
+Don&rsquo;t burs stick? But that is neither here nor there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt, how came I to Pentyre Glaze!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t invite you, and I didn&rsquo;t bring you&mdash;you may
+be sure of that. Captain Coppinger found you somewhere
+on the down at night, when you ought to have
+been at home. You were insensible, or pretended to be
+so&mdash;it&rsquo;s not for me to say which.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>129]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Oh, aunt, I don&rsquo;t want to be here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor do I want you here&mdash;and in my room, too.
+Hoity-toity! nephews and nieces are just like pigs&mdash;you
+want them to go one way and they run the other.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I should like to know where Captain Coppinger
+found me, and all about it. I don&rsquo;t remember anything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you must ask him yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to get up; may I?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t say till the doctor comes. There&rsquo;s no telling&mdash;I
+might be blamed. I shall be pleased enough when
+you are shifted to your own room,&rdquo; and she pointed to a
+door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My room, auntie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose so; I don&rsquo;t know whose else it is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Miss Trevisa whisked out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Judith lay quietly in bed trying to collect her thoughts
+and recall something of what had happened. She could
+recollect fastening her wrist to the shrub by her brother&rsquo;s
+dog-chain; then, with all the vividness of a recurrence of
+the scene&mdash;the fall of the man, the stroke on her cheek,
+his roll over and plunge down the precipice. The recollection
+made a film come over her eyes and her heart
+stand still. After that she remembered nothing. She
+tried hard to bring to mind one single twinkle of remembrance,
+but in vain. It was like looking at a wall
+and straining the eyes to see through it.</p>
+
+<p>Then she raised herself in bed to look about her. She
+was in her aunt&rsquo;s room, and in her aunt&rsquo;s bed. She had
+been brought there by Captain Coppinger. He, therefore,
+had rescued her from the position of peril in which
+she had been. So far she could understand. She would
+have liked to know more, but more, probably, her aunt
+could not tell her, even if inclined to do so.</p>
+
+<p>Where was Jamie? Was he at Uncle Zachie&rsquo;s? Had
+he been anxious and unhappy about her? She hoped
+he had got into no trouble during the time he had been
+free from her supervision. Judith felt that she must go
+back to Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s and to Jamie. She could not stay
+at the Glaze. She could not be happy with her ever-grumbling,
+ill-tempered aunt. Besides, her father would
+not have wished her to be there.</p>
+
+<p>What did Aunt Dunes mean when she pointed to a
+door and spoke of her room?</p>
+
+<p>Judith could not judge whether she were strong till
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>130]</a></span>
+she tried her strength. She slipped her feet to the floor,
+stood up and stole over the floor to that door which her
+aunt had indicated. She timidly raised the latch, after
+listening at it, opened and peeped into a small apartment.
+To her surprise she saw the little bed she had
+occupied at her dear home, the rectory, her old wash-stand,
+her mirror, the old chairs, the framed pictures
+that had adorned her walls, the common and trifling ornaments
+that had been arranged on her chimney-piece.
+Every object with which she had been familiar at the
+parsonage for many years, and to which she had said
+good-by, never expecting to have a right to them any
+more&mdash;all these were there, furnishing the room that adjoined
+her aunt&rsquo;s apartment.</p>
+
+<p>She stood looking around in surprise, till she heard a
+step on the stair outside, and, supposing it was that of
+Aunt Dionysia, she ran back to bed, and dived under the
+clothes and pulled the sheets over her golden head.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Dunes entered the room, bringing with her a bowl
+of soup. Her eye at once caught the opened door into
+the little adjoining chamber.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have been out of bed!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith thrust her head out of its hiding-place, and said,
+frankly, &ldquo;Yes, auntie! I could not help myself. I want
+to see. How have you managed to get all my things together?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I? I have had nothing to do with it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;who did it, auntie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger; he was at the sale.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is the sale over, aunt?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, whilst you have been ill.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I am so glad it is over, and I knew nothing about
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, exactly! Not a thought of the worry you have
+been to me; deprived of my sleep&mdash;of my bed&mdash;of my
+bed,&rdquo; repeated Aunt Dunes, grimly. &ldquo;How can you
+expect a bulb to flower if you take it out of the earth and
+stick it on a bedroom chair stirring broth? I have no
+patience with you young people. You are consumed
+with selfishness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, auntie! Don&rsquo;t be cross. Why did Captain
+Coppinger buy all my dear crinkum-crankums?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Dionysia snorted and tossed her head.</p>
+
+<p>Judith suddenly flushed; she did not repeat the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>131]</a></span>
+question, but said hastily, &ldquo;Auntie, I want to go back to Mr.
+Menaida.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You cannot desire it more than I do,&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa,
+sharply. &ldquo;But whether <em>he</em> will let you go is
+another matter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt Dunes, if I want to go, I will go!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will go back as soon as ever I can.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, that can&rsquo;t be to-day, for one thing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The evening of that same day Judith was removed
+into the adjoining room, &ldquo;her room,&rdquo; as Miss Trevisa
+designated it. &ldquo;And mind you sleep soundly, and don&rsquo;t
+trouble me in the night. Natural sleep is as suitable to
+me as green peas to duck.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When, next morning, the girl awoke, her eyes ranged
+round and lighted everywhere on familiar objects. The
+two mezzotints of Happy and Deserted Auburn, the old
+and battered pieces of Dresden ware, vases with flowers
+encrusted round them, but with most of the petals broken
+off&mdash;vases too injured to be of value to a purchaser, valuable
+to her because full of reminiscences&mdash;the tapestry
+firescreen, the painted fans with butterflies on them, the
+mirror blotched with damp, the inlaid wafer-box and
+ruler, the old snuffer-tray. Her eyes filled with tears. A
+gathering together into one room of old trifles did not
+make that strange room to be home. It was the father,
+the dear father, who, now that he was taken away, made
+home an impossibility, and the whole world, however
+crowded with old familiar odds and ends, to be desert and
+strange. The sight of all her old &ldquo;crinkum-crankums,&rdquo;
+as she had called them, made Judith&rsquo;s heart smart. It
+was kindly meant by Coppinger to purchase all these
+things and collect them there; but it was a mistake of
+judgment. Grateful she was, not gratified.</p>
+
+<p>In the little room there was an ottoman with a woolwork
+cover representing a cluster of dark red, pink, and
+white roses; and at each corner of the ottoman was a
+tassel, which had been a constant source of trouble to
+Judith, as the tassels would come off, sometimes because
+the cat played with them, sometimes because Jamie
+pulled them off in mischief, sometimes because they
+caught in her dress. Her father had embroidered
+those dreadful roses on a buff ground one winter when
+confined to the house by a heavy cold and cough. She
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>132]</a></span>
+valued that ottoman for his sake, and would not have
+suffered it to go into the sale had she possessed any
+place she could regard as her own where to put it. She
+needed no such article to remind her of the dear father&mdash;the
+thought of him would be forever present to her without
+the assistance of ottomans to refresh her memory.</p>
+
+<p>On this ottoman, when dressed, Judith seated herself,
+and let her hands rest in her lap. She was better; she
+would soon be well; and when well would take the first
+opportunity to depart.</p>
+
+<p>The door was suddenly thrown open by her aunt, and
+in the doorway stood Coppinger looking at her. He
+raised his hand to his hat in salutation, but said nothing.
+She was startled and unable to speak. In another moment
+the door was shut again.</p>
+
+<p>That day she resolved that nothing should detain her
+longer than she was forced. Jamie&mdash;her own dear Jamie&mdash;came
+to see her, and the twins were locked in each
+other&rsquo;s arms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Ju! darling Ju! You are quite well, are you
+not! And Captain Coppinger has given me a gray
+donkey instead of Tib; and I&rsquo;m to ride it about whenever
+I choose!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, dear, Mr. Menaida has no stable, and no paddock.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Ju! that&rsquo;s nothing. I&rsquo;m coming up here, and
+we shall be together&mdash;the donkey and you and me and
+Aunt Dunes!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Jamie. Nothing of the sort. Listen to me. You
+remain at Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s. I am coming back.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I&rsquo;ve already brought up my clothes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You take them back. Attend to me. You do not
+come here. I go back to Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s immediately.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, Ju! you&rsquo;ve got all your pretty things from the
+parsonage here!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are not mine. Mr. Coppinger bought them for
+himself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;the donkey?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Leave the donkey here. Pay attention to my words.
+I lay a strict command on you. As you love me, Jamie,
+do not leave Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s; remain there till my return.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That night there was a good deal of noise in the house.
+Judith&rsquo;s room lay in a wing, nevertheless she heard the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>133]</a></span>
+riot, for the house was not large, and the sounds from
+the hall penetrated every portion of it. She was frightened,
+and went into Miss Trevisa&rsquo;s room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt! what is this dreadful racket about?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go to sleep&mdash;you cannot have every one shut his
+mouth because of you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what is it, auntie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is nothing but the master has folk with him, if you
+wish particularly to know. The whole cargo of the Black
+Prince has been run, and not a finger has been laid by
+the coast-guard on a single barrel or bale. So they are
+celebrating their success. Go to bed and sleep. It is
+naught to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot sleep, aunt. They are singing now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why should they not; have you aught against it?
+You are not mistress here, that I am aware of.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, auntie, are there many down-stairs?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know. It is no concern of mine&mdash;and certainly
+none of yours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith was silenced for a while by her aunt&rsquo;s ill-humor;
+but she did not return to her room. Presently she
+asked&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you sure, aunt, that Jamie is gone back to Polzeath?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa kicked the stool from under her feet, in
+her impatience.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really! you drive me desperate. I did not bargain
+for this. Am I to tear over the country on post-horses
+to seek a nephew here and a niece there? I can&rsquo;t tell
+where Jamie is, and what is more, I do not care. I&rsquo;ll do
+my duty by you both. I&rsquo;ll do no more; and that has
+been forced on me, it was not sought by me. Heaven be
+my witness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith returned to her room. The hard and sour
+woman would afford her no information.</p>
+
+<p>In her room she threw herself on her bed and began to
+think. She was in the very home and head-quarters of
+contrabandism. But was smuggling a sin? Surely not
+that, or her father would have condemned it decidedly.
+She remembered his hesitation relative to it, in the last
+conversation they had together. Perhaps it was not
+actually a sin&mdash;she could recall no text in Scripture that
+denounced it&mdash;but it was a thing forbidden, and though
+she did not understand why it was forbidden, she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>134]</a></span>
+considered that it could not be an altogether honorable and
+righteous traffic. Judith was unable to rest. It was not
+the noise that disturbed her so much as her uneasiness
+about Jamie. Had he obeyed her and gone back to
+Uncle Zachie? Or had he neglected her injunction, and
+was he in the house, was he below along with the revellers?</p>
+
+<p>She opened the door gently, and stole along the passage
+to the head of the stairs, and listened. She could
+smell the fumes of tobacco; but to these she was familiar.
+The atmosphere of Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s cottage was redolent
+of the Virginian weed. The noise was, however, something
+to which she was utterly unaccustomed: the boisterous
+merriment, the shouts, and occasional oaths.
+Then a fiddle was played. There was disputation, a
+pause, then the fiddle recommenced; it played a jig;
+there was a clatter of feet, then a roar of laughter&mdash;and
+then&mdash;she was almost sure she heard the voice of her
+brother.</p>
+
+<p>Regardless of herself, thinking only of him, without a
+moment&rsquo;s consideration, she ran down the stairs and
+threw open the door into the great kitchen or hall.</p>
+
+<p>It was full of men&mdash;wild, rough fellows&mdash;drinking and
+smoking; there were lights and a fire. The atmosphere
+was rank with spirits and tobacco; on a chair sat a sailor
+fiddling, and in the midst of the room, on a table, was
+Jamie dancing a jig, to the laughter and applause of the
+revellers.</p>
+
+<p>The moment Judith appeared silence ensued&mdash;the men
+were surprised to see a pale and delicate girl stand before
+them, with a crown of gold like a halo round her
+ivory-white face. But Judith took no notice of anyone
+there&mdash;her eyes were on her brother, and her hand raised
+to attract his attention. Judith had been in bed, but,
+disturbed by the uproar, had risen and drawn on her
+gown; her feet, however, were bare, and her magnificent
+hair poured over her shoulders unbound. Her whole
+mind, her whole care, was for Jamie; on herself not a
+thought rested; she had forgotten that she was but half
+clothed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie! Jamie!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;My brother! my
+brother!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The fiddler ceased, lowered his violin, and stared at
+her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>135]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Ju, let me alone! It is such fun,&rdquo; said the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie! this instant you shall come with me. Get
+down off the table!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As he hesitated, and looked round to the men who had
+been applauding him for support against his sister, she
+went to the table, and caught him by the feet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie! in pity to me! Jamie! think&mdash;papa is but
+just dead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then tears of sorrow, shame, and entreaty filled her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Ju! I&rsquo;m not tied to your apron-strings,&rdquo; said the
+lad, disengaging himself.</p>
+
+<p>But in an instant he was caught from the table by
+the strong arm of Coppinger, and thrust toward the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith, you should not have come here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Mr. Coppinger&mdash;and Jamie! why did you let
+him&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger drew the girl from the room into the passage.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith, not for the world would I have had you here,&rdquo;
+said he, in an agitated voice. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll kill your aunt for
+letting you come down.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Coppinger, she knew nothing of my coming.
+Come I must&mdash;I heard Jamie&rsquo;s voice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go,&rdquo; said the Captain, shaking the boy. He was
+ashamed of himself and angry. &ldquo;Beware how you disobey
+your sister again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger&rsquo;s face was red as fire. He turned to Judith&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your feet are bare. Let me carry you up-stairs&mdash;carry
+you once more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. &ldquo;As I came down so I can return.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you forgive me?&rdquo; he said, in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Heaven forgive you,&rdquo; she answered, and burst into
+tears. &ldquo;You will break my heart, I foresee it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>136]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A GOLDFISH.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Next day&mdash;just in the same way as the day before&mdash;when
+Judith was risen and dressed, the door was thrown
+open, and again Coppinger was revealed, standing outside,
+looking at her with a strange expression, and saying
+no word.</p>
+
+<p>But Judith started up from her chair and went to him
+in the passage, put forth her delicate white hand, laid
+it on his cuff, and said: &ldquo;Mr. Coppinger, may I speak to
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where you like&mdash;down-stairs will be best, in the hall
+if no one be there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is empty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stood aside and allowed her to precede him.</p>
+
+<p>The staircase was narrow, and it would have been
+dark but for a small dormer-window through which light
+came from a squally sky covered with driving white
+vapors. But such light as entered from a white and
+wan sun fell on her head as she descended&mdash;that head of
+hair was like the splendor of a beech-tree touched by
+frost before the leaves fall.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger descended after her.</p>
+
+<p>When they were both in the hall, he indicated his
+arm-chair by the hearth for her to sit in, and she
+obeyed. She was weak, and now also nervous. She
+must speak to the smuggler firmly, and that required
+all her courage.</p>
+
+<p>The room was tidy; all traces of the debauch of the
+preceding night had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger stood a few paces from her. He seemed
+to know that what she was going to say would displease
+him, and he did not meet her clear eyes, but looked with
+a sombre frown upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Judith put the fingers of her right hand to her heart
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>137]</a></span>
+to bid it cease beating so fast, and then rushed into
+what she had to say, fearing lest delay should heighten
+the difficulty of saying it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am so&mdash;so thankful to you, sir, for what you have
+done for me. My aunt tells me that you found and carried
+me here. I had lost my way on the rocks, and but
+for you I would have died.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said, raising his eyes suddenly and looking
+piercingly into hers, &ldquo;but for me you would have
+died.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must tell you how deeply grateful I am for this and
+for other kindnesses. I shall never forget that this
+foolish, silly, little life of mine I owe to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again her heart was leaping so furiously as to need
+the pressure of her fingers on it to check it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are quits,&rdquo; said Coppinger, slowly. &ldquo;You came&mdash;you
+ran a great risk to save me. But for you I
+might be dead. So this rude and worthless&mdash;this evil
+life of mine,&rdquo; he held out his hands, both palms before
+her, and spoke with quivering voice&mdash;&ldquo;I owe to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Judith, &ldquo;as you say, we are quits. Yet
+no. If one account is cancelled, another remains unclosed.
+I threw you down and broke your bones. So
+there still remains a score against me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I have forgiven long ago,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Throw me
+down, break me, kill me, do with me what you will&mdash;and&mdash;I
+will kiss your hand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not wish to have my hand kissed,&rdquo; said Judith,
+hastily, &ldquo;I let you understand that before.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He put his elbow against the mantel-shelf, and leaned
+his brow against his open hand, looking down at her, so
+she could not see his face without raising her eyes, but
+he could rest his on her and study her, note her distress,
+the timidity with which she spoke, the wince when he
+said a word that implied his attachment to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have not only to thank you, Captain Coppinger,
+but I have to say good-by.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&mdash;go?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;I shall go back to Mr. Menaida to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stamped, and his face became blood-red. &ldquo;You
+shall not. I will it&mdash;here you stay.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It cannot be,&rdquo; said Judith, after a moment&rsquo;s pause
+to let his passion subside. &ldquo;You are not my guardian,
+though very generously you have undertaken to be
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>138]</a></span>
+valuer for me in dilapidations. I must go, I and Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head. He feared to speak, his anger
+choked him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot remain here myself, and certainly I will not
+let Jamie be here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it because of last night&rsquo;s foolery you say that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am responsible for my brother. He is not very
+clever; he is easily led astray. There is no one to
+think for him, to care for him, but myself. I could
+never let him run the risk of such a thing happening
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Confound the boy!&rdquo; burst forth Coppinger. &ldquo;Are
+you going to bring him up as a milk-sop? You are
+wrong altogether in the way you manage him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can but follow my conscience.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And is it because of him that you go?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not because of him only.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I have spoken to your aunt; she consents.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I do not,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>He stamped again, passionately.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not the man who will bear to be disobeyed and
+my will crossed. I say&mdash;Here you shall stay.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith waited a moment, looking at him steadily out
+of her clear, glittering iridescent eyes, and said slowly,
+&ldquo;I am not the girl to be obliged to stay where my common-sense
+and my heart say Stay not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He folded his arms, lowered his chin on his breast,
+and strode up and down the room. Then, suddenly, he
+stood still opposite her and asked, in a threatening tone:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you not like your room? Does that not please
+your humor?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It has been most kind of you to collect all my little
+bits of rubbish there. I feel how good you have been,
+how full of thought for me; but, for all that, I cannot
+stay.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have said, on one account, because of Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He bit his lips&mdash;&ldquo;I hate that boy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then most certainly he cannot be here. He must be
+with those who love him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then stay.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot&mdash;I will not. I have a will as well as you.
+My dear papa always said that my will was strong.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>139]</a></span>
+&ldquo;You are the only person who has ever dared to resist
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That may be; I am daring&mdash;because you have been
+kind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Kind to you. Yes&mdash;to you only.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It may be so, and because kind to me, and me only,
+I, and I only, presume to say No when you say Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He came again to the fireplace and again leaned
+against the mantel-shelf. He was trembling with passion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what if I say that, if you go, I will turn old
+Dunes&mdash;I mean your aunt&mdash;out of the house?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will not say it, Mr. Coppinger; you are too
+noble, too generous, to take a mean revenge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! you allow there is some good in me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thankfully and cheerfully protest there is a great
+deal of good in you&mdash;and I would there were more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come&mdash;stay here and teach me to be good&mdash;be my
+crutch; I will lean on you, and you shall help me along
+the right way.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are too great a weight, Mr. Coppinger,&rdquo; said
+she, smiling&mdash;but it was a frightened and a forced smile.
+&ldquo;You would bend and break the little crutch.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He heaved a long breath. He was looking at her from
+under his hand and his bent brows.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are cruel&mdash;to deny me a chance. And what if I
+were to say that I am hungry, sick at heart, and faint.
+Would you turn your back and leave me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, assuredly not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am hungry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at him, and was frightened by the glitter
+in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am hungry for the sight of you, for the sound of
+your voice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She did not say anything to this, but sat, with her
+hands on her lap, musing, uncertain how to deal with
+this man, so strange, impulsive, and yet so submissive to
+her, and even appealing to her pity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Coppinger, I have to think of and care for Jamie,
+and he takes up all my thoughts and engrosses all my
+time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie, again!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So that I cannot feed and teach another orphan.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Put off your departure&mdash;a week. Grant me that.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>140]</a></span>
+Then you will have time to get quite strong, and also
+you will be able to see whether it is not possible for
+you to live here. Here is your aunt&mdash;it is natural and
+right that you should be with her. She has been made
+your guardian by your father. Do you not bow to his
+directions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Coppinger, I cannot stay here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am at a disadvantage,&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Man
+always is when carrying on a contest with a woman.
+Stay&mdash;stay here and listen to me.&rdquo; He put out his hand
+and pressed her back into the chair, for she was about to
+rise. &ldquo;Listen to what I say. You do not know&mdash;you
+cannot know&mdash;how near death you and I&mdash;yes, you and
+I were, chained together.&rdquo; His deep voice shook.
+&ldquo;You and I were on the face of the cliff. There was but
+one little strip, the width of my hand&rdquo;&mdash;he held out his
+palm before her&mdash;&ldquo;and that was not secure. It was sliding
+away under my feet. Below was death, certain death&mdash;a
+wretched death. I held you. That little chain tied
+us two&mdash;us two together. All your life and mine hung
+on was my broken arm and broken collar-bone. I held
+you to me with my right arm and the chain. I did not
+think we should live. I thought that together&mdash;chained
+together, I holding you&mdash;so we would die&mdash;so we would
+be found&mdash;and my only care, my only prayer was, if so,
+that so we might be washed to sea and sink together, I
+holding you and chained to you, and you to me. I prayed
+that we might never be found; for I thought if rude
+hands were laid on us that the chain would be unloosed,
+my arm unlocked from about you, and that we should be
+carried to separate graves. I could not endure that
+thought. Let us go down together&mdash;bound, clasped together&mdash;into
+the depths of the deep sea, and there rest.
+But it was not to be so. I carried you over that stage
+of infinite danger. An angel or a devil&mdash;I cannot say
+which&mdash;held me up. And then I swore that never in life
+should you be loosed from me, as I trusted that in death
+we should have remained bound together. See!&rdquo; He
+put his hand to her head and drew a lock of her golden
+hair and wound it about his hand and arm. &ldquo;You have
+me fast now&mdash;fast in a chain of gold&mdash;of gold infinitely
+precious to me&mdash;infinitely strong&mdash;and you will cast me
+off, who never thought to cast you off when tied to you
+with a chain of iron. What say you? Will you stand
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>141]</a></span>
+in safety on your cliff of pride and integrity and unloose
+the golden band and say, &lsquo;Go down&mdash;down. I
+know nothing in you to love. You are naught to me but
+a robber, a wrecker, a drunkard, a murderer&mdash;go down
+into Hell?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In his quivering excitement he acted the whole scene,
+unconscious that he was so doing, and the drops of
+agony stood on his brow and rolled&mdash;drip&mdash;drip&mdash;drip
+from it. Man does not weep; his tears exude more bitter
+than those that flow from the eyes, and they distil from
+his pores.</p>
+
+<p>Judith was awed by the intensity of passion in the
+man, but not changed in her purpose. His vehemence
+reacted on her, calming her, giving her determination to
+finish the scene decisively and finally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Coppinger,&rdquo; she said, looking up to him, who
+still held her by the hair wound about his hand and
+arm, &ldquo;it is you who hold me in chains, not I you. And
+so I&mdash;your prisoner&mdash;must address a gaoler. Am I to
+speak in chains, or will you release me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head, and clenched his hand on the gold
+hair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;so it must be; I, bound,
+plead my cause with you&mdash;at a disadvantage. This is
+what I must say at the risk of hurting you; and, Heaven
+be my witness, I would not wound one who has been
+so good to me&mdash;one to whom I owe my life, my power
+now to speak and entreat.&rdquo; She paused a minute to
+gain breath and strengthen herself for what she had to
+say.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Coppinger&mdash;do you not yourself see that it is
+quite impossible that I should remain in this house&mdash;that
+I should have anything more to do with you?
+Consider how I have been brought up&mdash;what my
+thoughts have been. I have had, from earliest childhood,
+my dear papa&rsquo;s example and teachings, sinking
+into my heart till they have colored my very life-blood.
+My little world and your great one are quite different.
+What I love and care for is folly to you, and your pursuits
+and pleasures are repugnant to me. You are an
+eagle&mdash;a bird of prey.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A bird of prey,&rdquo; repeated Coppinger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you soar and fight, and dive, and rend in your
+own element; whereas I am a little silver trout&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>142]</a></span>
+&ldquo;No&rdquo;&mdash;he drew up his arm wound round with her
+hair&mdash;&ldquo;No&mdash;a goldfish.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, so be it; a goldfish swimming in my own
+crystal element, and happy in it. You would not take
+me out of it to gasp and die. Trust me, Captain Coppinger,
+I could not&mdash;even if I would&mdash;live in your
+world.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She put up her hands to his arm and drew some of
+the hair through his fingers, and unwound it from his
+sleeve. He made no resistance. He watched her, in a
+dream. He had heard every word she had said, and he
+knew that she spoke the truth. They belonged to different
+realms of thought and sensation. He could not
+breathe&mdash;he would stifle&mdash;in hers, and it was possible&mdash;it
+was certain&mdash;that she could not endure the strong,
+rough quality of his.</p>
+
+<p>Her delicate fingers touched his hand, and sent a
+spasm to his heart. She was drawing away another
+strand of hair, and untwisting it from about his arm,
+passing the wavy, fire-gold from one hand to the other.
+And as every strand was taken off, so went light and
+hope from him, and despair settled down on his dark
+spirit.</p>
+
+<p>He was thinking whether it would not have been better
+to have thrown himself down when he had her in his
+arms, and bound to him by the chain.</p>
+
+<p>Then he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up, and caught his wild eye. There was a
+timid inquiry in her look, and he answered it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may unwind your hair from my arm, but it is
+woven round and round my heart, and you cannot loose
+it thence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She drew another strand away, and released that also
+from his arm. There remained now but one red-gold
+band of hair fastening her to him. He looked entreatingly
+at her, and then at the hair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It must indeed be so,&rdquo; she said, and released herself
+wholly.</p>
+
+<p>Then she stood up, a little timidly, for she could not
+trust him in his passion and his despair. But he did
+not stir; he looked at her with fixed, dreamy eyes. She
+left her place, and moved toward the door. She had
+gone forth from Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s without hat or other
+cover for her head than the cloak with its hood, and that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>143]</a></span>
+she had lost. She must return bare-headed. She had
+reached the door; and there she waved him a farewell.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Goldfish!&rdquo; he cried.</p>
+
+<p>She halted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Goldfish, come here; one&mdash;one word only.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated whether to yield. The man was dangerous.
+But she considered that with a few strides he
+might overtake her if she tried to escape. Therefore
+she returned toward him, but came not near enough for
+him to touch her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hearken to me,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;It may be as you say. It
+is as you say. You have your world; I have mine. You
+could not live in mine, nor I in yours.&rdquo; But his voice
+thrilled. &ldquo;Swear to me&mdash;swear to me now&mdash;that while
+I live no other shall hold you, as I would have held you,
+to his side; that no other shall take your hair and wind
+it round him, as I have&mdash;I could not endure that. Will
+you swear to me that?&mdash;and you shall go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed I will; indeed, indeed I will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Beware how you break this oath. Let him beware
+who dares to seek you.&rdquo; He was silent, looking on the
+ground, his arms folded. So he stood for some minutes,
+lost in thought. Then suddenly he cried out, &ldquo;Goldfish!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He had found a single hair, long&mdash;a yard long&mdash;of the
+most intense red-gold, lustrous as a cloud in the west
+over the sunken sun. It had been left about his arm and
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Goldfish!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But she was gone.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>144]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XX.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">BOUGHT AND SOLD.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Cruel Coppinger remained brooding in the place
+where he had been standing, and as he stood there his
+face darkened. He was a man of imperious will and violent
+passions; a man unwont to curb himself; accustomed
+to sweep out of his path whoever or whatever
+stood between him and the accomplishment of his purpose;
+a man who never asked himself whether that purpose
+were good or bad. He had succumbed, in a manner
+strange and surprising to himself, to the influence
+of Judith&mdash;a sort of witchery over him that subdued his
+violence and awed him into gentleness and modesty.
+But when her presence was withdrawn the revolt of the
+man&rsquo;s lawless nature began. Who was this who had
+dared to oppose her will to his? a mere child of eighteen.
+Women were ever said to be a perverse generation,
+and loved to domineer over men; and man was
+weak to suffer it. So thinking, chafing, he had worked
+himself into a simmering rage when Miss Trevisa entered
+the hall, believing it to be empty. Seeing him,
+she was about to withdraw, when he shouted to her to
+stay.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon for intruding, sir; I am in quest
+of my niece. Those children keep me in a whirl like a
+teetotum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your niece is gone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gone! where to?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Back&mdash;I suppose to that old fool, Menaida. He is
+meet to be a companion for her and that idiot, her
+brother; not I&mdash;I am to be spurned from her presence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa was surprised, but she said nothing.
+She knew his moods.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stand there, Mother Dunes!&rdquo; said Coppinger, in his
+anger and humiliation, glad to have some one on whom
+he could pour out the lava that boiled up in his burning
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>145]</a></span>
+breast. &ldquo;Listen to me. She has told me that we belong
+to different worlds&mdash;she and I&mdash;and to different races,
+kinds of being, and that there can be no fellowship betwixt
+us. Where I am she will not be. Between me and
+you there is a great gulf fixed&mdash;see you? and I am as
+Dives tormented in my flame, and she stands yonder,
+serene, in cold and complacent blessedness, and will not
+cross to me with her finger dipped in cold water to cool
+my tongue; and as for my coming near to her&rdquo;&mdash;he
+laughed fiercely&mdash;&ldquo;that can never be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did she say all that?&rdquo; asked Miss Trevisa.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She looked it; she implied it, if she did not say it
+in these naked words. And, what is more,&rdquo; shouted he,
+coming before Aunt Dionysia, threateningly, so that she
+recoiled, &ldquo;it is true. When she sat there in yonder
+chair, and I stood here by this hearthstone, and she
+spoke, I knew it was true; I saw it all&mdash;the great gulf
+unspanned by any bridge. I knew that none could ever
+bridge it, and there we were, apart for ever, I in my fire
+burning, she in Blessedness&mdash;indifferent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am very sorry,&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa, &ldquo;that Judith
+should so have misconducted herself. My brother
+brought her up in a manner to my mind, most improper
+for a young girl. He made her read Rollin&rsquo;s &lsquo;Ancient
+History,&rsquo; and Blair&rsquo;s &lsquo;Chronological Tables,&rsquo; and really
+upon my word, I cannot say what else.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not care how it was,&rdquo; said Coppinger. &ldquo;But
+here stands the gulf.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rollin is in sixteen octavo volumes,&rdquo; said Aunt Dionysia;
+&ldquo;and they are thick also.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger strode about the room, with his hands in his
+deep coat pockets, his head down.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear brother,&rdquo; continued Miss Trevisa, apologetically,
+&ldquo;made of Judith his daily companion, told her
+all he thought, asked her opinion, as though she were
+a full-grown woman, and one whose opinion was worth
+having, whereas he never consulted me, never cared to
+talk to me about anything, and the consequence is the
+child has grown up without that respect for her elders
+and betters, and that deference for the male sex which
+the male sex expects. I am sure when I was a girl, and
+of her age, I was very different, very different indeed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of that I have not the smallest doubt,&rdquo; sneered Coppinger.
+&ldquo;But never mind about yourself. It is of her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>146]</a></span>
+I am speaking. She is gone, has left me, and I cannot
+endure it. I cannot endure it,&rdquo; he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said Aunt Dionysia, &ldquo;you must
+excuse me saying it, Captain Coppinger, but you place
+me in a difficult position. I am the guardian of my niece,
+though, goodness knows, I never desired it, and I don&rsquo;t
+know what to think. It is very flattering and kind, and
+I esteem it great goodness in you to speak of Judith
+with such warmth, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Goodness! kindness!&rdquo; exclaimed Coppinger. &ldquo;I
+am good and kind to her! She forced me to it. I can
+be nothing else, and she throws me at her feet and
+tramples on me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sure your sentiments, sir, are&mdash;are estimable;
+but, feeling as you seem to imply toward Judith, I
+hardly know what to say. Bless me! what a scourge to
+my shoulders these children are: nettles stinging and
+blistering my skin, and not allowing me a moment&rsquo;s
+peace!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I imply nothing,&rdquo; said Coppinger. &ldquo;I speak out
+direct and plain what I mean. I love her. She has
+taken me, she turns me about, she gets my heart between
+her little hands and tortures it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then surely, Captain, you cannot ask me to let her
+be here. You are most kind to express yourself in this
+manner about the pert hussy, but, as she is my niece,
+and I am responsible for her, I must do my duty by her,
+and not expose her to be&mdash;talked about. Bless me!&rdquo;
+gasped Aunt Dunes, &ldquo;when I was her age I never would
+have put myself into such a position as to worry my
+aunt out of her seven senses, and bring her nigh to distraction.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will marry her, and make her mistress of my house
+and all I have,&rdquo; said Coppinger.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa slightly courtesied, then said, &ldquo;I am sure
+you are over-indulgent, but what is to become of me? I
+have no doubt it will be very comfortable and acceptable
+to Judith to hear this, but&mdash;what is to become of me? It
+would not be very delightful for me to be housekeeper
+here under my own niece, a pert, insolent, capricious
+hussy. You can see at once, Captain Coppinger, that I
+cannot consent to that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The woman had the shrewdness to know that she
+could be useful to Coppinger, and the selfishness that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>147]</a></span>
+induced her to make terms with him to secure her own
+future, and to show him that she could stand in his way
+till he yielded to them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never asked to have these children thrust down my
+throat, like the fish-bone that strangled Lady Godiva&mdash;no,
+who was it? Earl Godiva; but I thank my stars I
+never waded through Rollin, and most certainly kept
+my hands off Blair. Of course, Captain Coppinger, it is
+right and proper of you to address yourself to me, as
+the guardian of my niece, before speaking to her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have spoken to her and she spurns me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Naturally, because you spoke to her before addressing
+me on the subject. My dear brother&mdash;I will do him
+this justice&mdash;was very emphatic on this point. But you
+see, sir, my consent can never be given.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not ask your consent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith will never take you without it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Consent or no consent,&rdquo; said Coppinger, &ldquo;that is a
+secondary matter. The first is, she does not like me,
+whereas I&mdash;I love her. I never loved a woman before. I
+knew not what love was. I laughed at the fools, as I
+took them to be, who sold themselves into the hands of
+women; but now, I cannot live without her. I can think
+of nothing but her all day. I am in a fever, and cannot
+sleep at night&mdash;all because she is tormenting me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All at once, exhausted by his passion, desperate at
+seeing no chance of success, angry at being flouted by a
+child, he threw himself into the chair, and settled his
+chin on his breast, and folded his arms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Tell me what is my way out of
+this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You cannot expect my help or my advice, Captain,
+so as to forward what would be most unsatisfactory to
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What! do you grudge her to me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not that; but, if she were here, what would become
+of me? Should I be turned out into the cold at my age
+by this red-headed hussy, to find a home for myself with
+strangers? Here I never would abide with her as mistress,
+never.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I care naught about you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, of that I am aware, to my regret, sir; but that
+makes it all the more necessary for me to take care for
+myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>148]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Coppinger, &ldquo;I must buy you. Is your
+aid worth it? Will she listen to you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can make her listen to me,&rdquo; said Aunt Dunes, &ldquo;if
+it be worth my while. At my age, having roughed it,
+having no friends, I must think of myself and provide
+for the future, when I shall be too old to work.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Name your price.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa did not answer for a while; she was considering
+the terms she would make. To her coarse and
+soured mind there was nothing to scruple at in aiding
+Coppinger in his suit. The Trevisas were of a fine old
+Cornish stock, but then Judith took after her mother,
+the poor Scottish governess, and Aunt Dunes did not
+feel toward her as though she were of her own kin. The
+girl looked like her mother. She had no right, in Miss
+Trevisa&rsquo;s eyes, to bear the name of her father, for her
+father ought to have known better than stoop to marry
+a beggarly, outlandish governess. Not very logical reasoning,
+but what woman, where her feelings are engaged,
+does reason logically? Aunt Dunes had never loved her
+niece; she felt an inner repulsion, such as sprang from
+encountering a nature superior, purer, more refined than
+her own, and the mortification of being forced to admit
+to herself that it was so. Judith, moreover, was costing
+her money, and Miss Trevisa parted with her hard-earned
+savings as reluctantly as with her heart&rsquo;s blood. She
+begrudged the girl and her brother every penny she was
+forced, or believed she would be forced, to expend upon
+them. And was she doing the girl an injury in helping
+her to a marriage that would assure her a home and a
+comfortable income?</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Dionysia knew well enough that things went on
+in Pentyre Glaze that were not to be justified, that Coppinger&rsquo;s
+mode of life was not one calculated to make a
+girl of Judith&rsquo;s temperament happy, but&mdash;&ldquo;Hoity-toity!&rdquo;
+said Miss Trevisa to herself, &ldquo;if girls marry,
+they must take men as they find them. Beggars must
+not be choosers. You must not look a gift horse in the
+mouth. No trout can be eaten apart from its bones, nor
+a rose plucked that is free from thorns.&rdquo; She herself
+had accommodated herself to the ways of the house, to
+the moods and manners of Coppinger; and if she could
+do that, so could a mongrel Trevisa. What was good
+enough for herself was over-good for Judith.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>149]</a></span>
+She had been saddled with these children, much
+against her wishes, and if she shifted the saddle to the
+shoulders of one willing to bear it, why not? She had
+duties to perform to her own self as well as to those
+thrust on her by the dead hand of that weak, that inconsiderate
+brother of hers, Peter Trevisa.</p>
+
+<p>Would her brother have approved of her forwarding
+this union? That was a question that did not trouble
+her much. Peter did what he thought best for his
+daughter when he was alive, stuffing her head with Rollin
+and Blair, and now that he was gone, she must do
+the best she could for her, and here was a chance offered
+that she would be a fool not to snap at.</p>
+
+<p>Nor did she concern herself greatly whether Judith&rsquo;s
+happiness were at stake. Hoity-toity! girls&rsquo; happiness!
+They are bound to make themselves happy when they
+find themselves. The world was not made to fit them,
+but they to accommodate themselves to the places in
+which they found themselves in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa had for some days seen the direction
+matters were taking, she had seen clearly enough the infatuation&mdash;yes,
+infatuation she said it was&mdash;that had possessed
+Coppinger. What he could see in the girl passed
+her wits to discover. To her, Judith was an odious little
+minx&mdash;very like her mother. Miss Trevisa, therefore, had
+had time to weigh the advantages and the disadvantages
+that might spring to her, should Coppinger persist in his
+suit and succeed; and she had considered whether it
+would be worth her while to help or to hinder his suit.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You put things,&rdquo; said Aunt Dionysia, &ldquo;in a blunt
+and a discourteous manner, such as might offend a lady of
+delicacy, like myself, who am in delicacy a perfect guava
+jelly; but, Captain, I know your ways, as I ought to,
+having been an inmate of this house for many years. It
+is no case of buying and selling, as you insinuate, but
+the case is plainly this: I know the advantage it will be
+to my niece to be comfortably provided for. She and
+Jamie have between them but about a thousand pounds,
+a sum to starve, and not to live, upon. They have no
+home and no relative in the world but myself, who am
+incapable of giving them a home and of doing anything
+for them except at an excruciating sacrifice. If Judith
+be found, through your offer, a home, then Jamie also is
+provided for.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>150]</a></span>
+He said nothing to this, but moved his feet impatiently.
+She went on: &ldquo;The boy <em>must</em> be provided for.
+And if Judith become your wife, not only will it be
+proper for you to see that he is so, but Judith will give
+neither you nor me our natural rest until the boy is comfortable
+and happy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Confound the boy!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is all very well to say that, but he who would have
+anything to say to Judith must reckon to have to consider
+Jamie also. They are inseparable. Now, I assume
+that by Judith&rsquo;s marriage Jamie is cared for. But how
+about myself? Is every one to lie in clover and I in
+stubble? Am I to rack my brains to find a home for my
+nephew and niece, only that I may be thrust out myself?
+To find for them places at your table, that I may be deprived
+of a crust and a bone under it? If no one else
+will consider me, I must consider myself. I am the last
+representative of an ancient and honorable family&mdash;&rdquo;
+She saw Coppinger move his hand, and thought he expressed
+dissent. She added hastily, &ldquo;As to Judith and
+Jamie, they take after their Scotch mother. I do not
+reckon them as Trevisas.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come&mdash;tell me what you want,&rdquo; said Coppinger, impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want to be secure for my old age, that I do not
+spend it in the poor-house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you ask?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me an annuity of fifty pounds for my life, and
+Othello Cottage that is on your land.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ask enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will never get Judith without granting me that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well&mdash;get Judith to be mine, and you shall have it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you swear to it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And give me&mdash;I desire that&mdash;the promise in writing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall have it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I will help you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Leave that to me. I am her guardian.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But not of her heart?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Leave her to me. You shall win her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Through Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>151]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">OTHELLO COTTAGE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>To revert to the old life as far as possible under changed
+circumstances, to pass a sponge over a terrible succession
+of pictures, to brush out the vision of horrors from
+her eyes, and shake the burden of the past off her head&mdash;if
+for a while only&mdash;was a joy to Judith. She had been
+oppressed with nightmare, and now the night was over,
+her brain clear, and should forget its dreams.</p>
+
+<p>She and Jamie were together, and were children once
+more; her anxiety for her brother was allayed, and she
+had broken finally with Cruel Coppinger. Her heart
+bounded with relief. Jamie was simple and docile as of
+old; and she rambled with him through the lanes, along
+the shore, upon the downs, avoiding only one tract of
+common and one cove.</p>
+
+<p>A child&rsquo;s heart is elastic; eternal droopings it cannot
+bear. Beaten down, bruised and draggled by the storm,
+it springs up when the sun shines, and laughs into
+flower. It is no eucalyptus that ever hangs its leaves;
+it is a sensitive plant, wincing, closing, at a trifle, feeling
+acutely, but not for long.</p>
+
+<p>And now Judith had got an idea into her head, that
+she communicated to Jamie, and her sanguine anticipations
+kindled his torpid mind. She had resolved to make
+little shell baskets and other chimney ornaments, not
+out of the marine shells cast up by the sea, for on that
+coast none came ashore whole, but out of the myriad
+snail-shells that strew the downs. They were of all sizes,
+from a pin&rsquo;s head to a gooseberry, and of various colors&mdash;salmon-pink,
+sulphur-yellow, rich brown and pure
+white. By judicious arrangement of sizes and of colors,
+with a little gum on cardboard, what wonderful erections
+might be made, certain to charm the money out of the
+pocket, and bring in a little fortune to the twins.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And then,&rdquo; said Jamie, &ldquo;I can build a linney, and
+rent a paddock, and keep my Neddy at Polzeath.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>152]</a></span>
+&ldquo;And,&rdquo; said Judith, &ldquo;we need be no longer a burden
+to Auntie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The climax of constructive genius would be exhibited
+in the formation of a shepherd and shepherdess, for
+which Judith was to paint faces and hands; but their
+hats, their garments, their shoes, were to be made of
+shells. The shepherdess was to have a basket on her
+arm, and in this basket were to be flowers, not made out
+of complete shells, but out of particles of sea-shells of
+rainbow colors.</p>
+
+<p>What laughter, what exultation there was over the
+shepherd and shepherdess! How in imagination they
+surpassed the fascinations of Dresden china figures. And
+the price at which they were to be sold was settled.
+Nothing under a pound would be accepted, and that
+would be inadequate to represent the value of such a
+monument of skill and patience! The shepherd and
+shepherdess would have to be kept under glass bells, on
+a drawing-room mantel-shelf.</p>
+
+<p>Judith&rsquo;s life had hitherto been passed between her
+thoughtful, cultured father and her thoughtless, infantile
+brother. In some particulars she was old for her age,
+but in others she was younger than her years. As the
+companion of her father, she had gained powers of
+reasoning, a calmness in judging, and a shrewdness of
+sense which is unusual in a girl of eighteen. But as
+also the associate of Jamie in his play, she had a childish
+delight in the simplest amusements, and a readiness to
+shake off all serious thought and fretting care in an instant,
+and to accommodate herself to the simplicity of
+her brother.</p>
+
+<p>Thus&mdash;a child with a child&mdash;Judith and Jamie were on
+the common one windy, showery day, collecting shells,
+laughing, chattering, rejoicing over choice snail-shells,
+as though neither had passed through a wave of trouble,
+as though life lay serene before them.</p>
+
+<p>Judith had no experience of the world. With her
+natural wit and feminine instinct she had discovered
+that Cruel Coppinger loved her. She had also no hesitation
+in deciding that he must be repulsed. Should he
+seek her, she must avoid him. They could not possibly
+unite their lives. She had told him this, and there the
+matter ended. He must swallow his disappointment,
+and think no more about her. No one could have everything
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>153]</a></span>
+he wanted. Other people had to put up with rejection,
+why not Coppinger? It might be salutary to
+him to find that he could not have his way in all things.
+So she argued, and then she put aside from her all
+thought of the Captain, and gave herself up to consideration
+of snail-shell boxes, baskets, and shepherds and
+shepherdesses.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie was developing a marvellous aptitude for bird-stuffing.
+Mr. Menaida had told Judith repeatedly that
+if the boy would stick to it, he might become as skilful
+as himself. He would be most happy, thankful to be able
+to pass over to him some of the work that accumulated,
+and which he could not execute. &ldquo;I am not a professional;
+I am an amateur. I only stuff birds to amuse my
+leisure moments. Provokingly enough, gentlemen do
+not believe this. They write to me as if I were a tradesman,
+laying their commands upon me, and I resent it.
+I have a small income of my own, and am not forced to
+slave for my bread and &rsquo;baccy. Now, if Jamie will work
+with me and help me, I will cheerfully share profits with
+him. I must be director&mdash;that is understood.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But it was very doubtful whether poor Jamie could be
+taught to apply himself regularly to the work, and that
+under a desultory master, who could not himself remain
+at a task many minutes without becoming exhausted and
+abandoning it. Jamie could be induced to work only by
+being humored. He loved praise. He must be coaxed
+and flattered to undertake any task that gave trouble.
+Fortunately, taxidermy did not require any mental effort,
+and it was the straining of his imperfect mental powers
+that irritated and exhausted the boy.</p>
+
+<p>With a little cajolery he might be got to do as much
+as did Uncle Zachie, and if Mr. Menaida were as good as
+his word&mdash;and there could be little doubt that so kind,
+amiable, and honorable a man would be that&mdash;Jamie
+would really earn a good deal of money. Judith also
+hoped to earn more with her shell-work, and together she
+trusted they would be able to support themselves without
+further tax on Miss Trevisa.</p>
+
+<p>And what a childish pleasure they found in scheming
+their future, what they would do with their money,
+where they would take a house, how furnish it! They
+laughed over their schemes, and their pulses fluttered at
+the delightful pictures they conjured up. And all their
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>154]</a></span>
+rosy paradise was to rise out of the proceeds of stuffed
+birds and snail-shell chimney ornaments.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ju! come here, Ju!&rdquo; cried Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>Then again impatiently, &ldquo;Ju! come here, Ju!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, dear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here is the very house for us. Do come and see.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>On the down, nestled against a wall that had once enclosed
+a garden, but was now ruinous, stood a cottage.
+It was built of wreck-timber, thatched with heather and
+bracken, and with stones laid on the thatching, which
+was bound with ropes, as protection against the wind.
+A quaint, small house, with little windows under the
+low eaves; one story high, the window-frames painted
+white; the glass frosted with salt blown from the sea, so
+that it was impossible to look through the small panes,
+and discover what was within. The door had a gable
+over it, and the centre of the gable was occupied by a
+figure-head of Othello. The Moor of Venice was black
+and well battered by storm, so that the paint was washed
+and bitten off him. There was a strong brick chimney
+in the midst of the roof, but no smoke issued from it,
+nor had the house the appearance of being inhabited.
+There were no blinds to the windows, there were no
+crocks, no drying linen about the house; it had a deserted
+look, and yet was in good repair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Ju!&rdquo; said Jamie, &ldquo;we will live here. Will it
+not be fun? And I shall have a gun and shoot birds.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Whose house can it be?&rdquo; asked Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. Ju, the door is open; shall we go
+in?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Jamie, we have no right there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A little gate was in the wall, and Judith looked
+through. There had at one time certainly been a garden
+there, but it had been neglected, and allowed to be overrun
+with weeds. Roses, escallonica, and lavender had
+grown in untrimmed luxuriance. Marigolds rioted over
+the space like a weed. Pinks flourished, loving the
+sandy soil, but here and there the rude blue thistle had
+intruded and asserted its right to the sea-border land
+as its indigenous home.</p>
+
+<p>Down came the rain, so lashing that Judith was constrained
+to seek shelter, and, in spite of her protest that
+she had no right to enter Othello Cottage, she passed
+the threshold.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>155]</a></span>
+No one was within but Jamie, who had not attended
+to her objection; led by curiosity, and excusing himself
+by the rain, he had opened the door and gone inside.</p>
+
+<p>The house was unoccupied, and yet was not in a condition
+of neglect and decay. If no one lived there, yet
+certainly some one visited it, for it had not that mouldy
+atmosphere that pervades a house long shut up, nor
+were dust and sand deep on floor and table. There was
+furniture, though scanty. The hearth showed traces of
+having had a fire in it at no very distant period. There
+were benches. There were even tinder-box and candle
+on the mantle-shelf.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie was in high excitement and delight. This was
+the ogre&rsquo;s cottage to which Jack had climbed up the
+bean-stalk. He was sure to find somewhere the hen
+that laid golden eggs, and the harp that played of itself.</p>
+
+<p>Judith seated herself on one of the benches and sorted
+her shells, leaving Jamie to amuse himself. As the
+house was uninhabited, it did not seem to her that any
+gross impropriety existed in allowing him to run in and
+out and peep round the rooms, and into the corners.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith,&rdquo; he exclaimed, coming to her from an adjoining
+room, &ldquo;there is a bed in here, and there are crooks
+in the wall!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are the crooks for, dear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For climbing, I think.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he ran back, and she saw no more of him for
+a while, but heard him scrambling.</p>
+
+<p>She rose and went to the door into the adjoining
+apartment to see that he was after no mischief. She
+found that this apartment was intended for sleeping in.
+There was a bedstead with a mattress on it, but no
+clothes. Jamie had found some crooks in the wall, and
+was scrambling up these, with hands and feet, toward
+the ceiling, where she perceived an opening, apparently
+into the attic.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Jamie! what are you doing there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ju, I want to see whether there is anything between
+the roof and the ceiling. There may be the harp there,
+or the hen that lays golden eggs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The shower is nearly over; I shall not wait for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She seated herself on the bed and watched him. He
+thrust open a sliding board, and crawled through into
+the attic. He would soon tire of exploring among the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>156]</a></span>
+rafters, and would return dirty, and have to be cleared
+of cobwebs and dust. But it amused the boy. He was
+ever restless, and she would find it difficult to keep him
+occupied sitting by her below till the rain ceased, so she
+allowed him to scramble and search as he pleased. Very
+few minutes had passed before Judith heard a short
+cough in the main room, and she at once rose and
+stepped back into it to apologize for her intrusion. To
+her great surprise she found her aunt there, at the little
+window, measuring it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A couple of yards will do&mdash;double width,&rdquo; said Miss
+Trevisa.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Auntie!&rdquo; exclaimed Judith. &ldquo;Who ever would have
+thought of seeing you here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa turned sharply round, and her lips
+tightened.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And who would have thought of seeing you here,&rdquo;
+she answered, curtly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Auntie, the rain came on; I ran in here so as not to
+be wet through. To whom does this house belong?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To the master&mdash;to whom else? Captain Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you measuring the window for blinds for him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am measuring for blinds, but not for him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;who lives here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No one as yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is any one coming to live here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;I am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, auntie! and are we to come here with you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa snorted, and stiffened her back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you out of your senses, like Jamie, to ask such
+a question? What is the accommodation here? Two
+little bedrooms, one large kitchen, and a lean-to for scullery&mdash;that
+is all&mdash;a fine roomy mansion for three people
+indeed!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, auntie, are you leaving the Glaze?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I am. Have you any objection to that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, aunt, only I am surprised. And Captain Cruel
+lets you have this dear little cottage?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As to its being dear, I don&rsquo;t know, I am to have it;
+and that is how you have found it open to poke and pry
+into. I came up to look round and about me, and then
+found I had not brought my measuring tape with me,
+so I returned home for that, and you found the door
+open and thrust yourself in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>157]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I am very sorry if I have given you annoyance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s no annoyance to me. The place is not mine
+yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But when do you come here, Aunt Dunes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When?&rdquo; Miss Trevisa looked at her niece with a
+peculiar expression in her hard face that Judith noticed,
+but could not interpret. &ldquo;That,&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa, &ldquo;I
+do not know yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose you will do up that dear little garden,&rdquo;
+said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa did not vouchsafe an answer; she
+grunted, and resumed her measuring.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Has this cottage been vacant for long, auntie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, auntie, some one comes here. It is not quite
+deserted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa said to herself, &ldquo;Four times two and one
+breadth torn in half to allow for folds will do it. Four
+times two is eight, and one breadth more is ten.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Just then Jamie appeared, shyly peeping through the
+door. He had heard his aunt&rsquo;s voice, and was afraid to
+show himself. Her eye, however, observed him, and in
+a peremptory tone she ordered him to come forward.</p>
+
+<p>But Jamie would not obey her willingly, and he
+deemed it best for him to make a dash through the kitchen
+to the open front door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That boy!&rdquo; growled Miss Trevisa, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll be bound he
+has been at mischief.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Auntie, I think the rain has ceased, I will say good-by.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Judith left the cottage.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ju,&rdquo; said Jamie, when he was with his sister beyond
+earshot of the aunt, &ldquo;such fun&mdash;I have something to
+tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, Jamie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t tell you till we get home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Jamie, not till we get back to Polzeath?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, not till we get half-way home&mdash;to the white
+gate. Then I will tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>158]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">JAMIE&rsquo;S RIDE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Jamie! the white gate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The white gate!&mdash;what about that?&rdquo; He had forgotten
+his promise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have a secret to tell me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the boy began to laugh and to tap his pockets.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you think, Ju! look what I have found. Do
+you know what is in the loft of the cottage we were in?
+There are piles of tobacco, all up hidden away in the
+dark under the rafters. I have got my pockets stuffed as
+full as they will hold. It is for Uncle Zachie. Won&rsquo;t
+he be pleased?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Jamie! you should not have done that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not? Don&rsquo;t scold, Ju!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is stealing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, it is not. No one lives there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nevertheless it belongs to some one, by whatever
+means it was got, and for whatever purpose stowed
+away there. You had no right to touch it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then why do you take snail-shells?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They belong to no one, no one values them. It is
+other with this tobacco. Give it up. Take it back
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&mdash;to Aunt Dunes? I daren&rsquo;t, she&rsquo;s so cross.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, give it to me, and I will take it to her. She
+is now at the cottage, and the tobacco can be replaced.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Ju, I should like to see her scramble up the
+wall!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not think she will do that; but she will contrive
+somehow to have the tobacco restored. It is not yours,
+and I believe it belongs to Captain Cruel. If it be not
+given back now he may hear of it and be very angry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He would beat me,&rdquo; said the boy, hastily emptying
+his pockets. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d rather have Aunt Dunes&rsquo; jaw than
+Captain Cruel&rsquo;s stick.&rdquo; He gave the tobacco to his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>159]</a></span>
+sister, but he was not in a good humor. He did not see
+the necessity for restoring it. But Jamie never disobeyed
+his sister, when they were alone, and she was determined
+with him. Before others he tried to display
+his independence, by feeble defiances never long maintained,
+and ending in a reconciliation with tears and
+kisses, and promises of submission without demur for
+the future. With all, even the most docile children,
+there occur epochs when they try their wings, strut and
+ruffle their plumes, and crow very loud&mdash;epochs of petulance
+or boisterous outbreak of self-assertion in the face
+of their guides and teachers. If the latter be firm, the
+trouble passes away to be renewed at a future period till
+manhood or womanhood is reached, and then guide and
+teacher who is wise falls back, lays down control, and
+lets the pupils have their own way. But if at the first
+attempts at mastery, those in authority, through indifference
+or feebleness or folly, give way, then the fate of
+the children is sealed, they are spoiled for ever.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie had his rebellious fits, and they were distressing
+to Judith, but she never allowed herself to be conquered.
+She evaded provoking them whenever possible; and as
+much as possible led him by his affection. He had a
+very tender heart, was devotedly attached to his sister,
+and appeals to his better nature were usually successful,
+not always immediately, but in the long run.</p>
+
+<p>Her association with Jamie had been of benefit to
+Judith; it had strengthened her character. She had
+been forced from earliest childhood to be strong where
+he was weak, to rule because he was incapable of ruling
+himself. This had nurtured in her a decision of mind, a
+coolness of judgment, and an inflexibility of purpose unusual
+in a girl of her years.</p>
+
+<p>Judith walked to Othello Cottage, carrying the tobacco
+in her skirt, held up by both hands; and Jamie sauntered
+back to Polzeath, carrying his sister&rsquo;s basket of
+shells, stopping at intervals to add to the collection,
+then ensconcing himself in a nook of the hedge to watch
+a finch, a goldhammer, or a blackbird, then stopped to
+observe and follow a beetle of gorgeous metallic hues
+that was running across the path.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he emerged into the highway, the parish
+road; there was no main road in those parts maintained
+by toll-gates, and then observed a gig approach in which
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>160]</a></span>
+sat two men, one long and narrow-faced, the other tall,
+but stout and round-faced. He recognized the former
+at once as Mr. Scantlebray, the appraiser. Mr. Scantlebray,
+who was driving, nudged his companion, and with
+the butt-end of the whip pointed to the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Heigh! hi-up! Gaffer!&rdquo; called Mr. Scantlebray, flapping
+his arms against his sides, much as does a cock
+with his wings. &ldquo;Come along; I have something of
+urgent importance to say to you&mdash;something so good
+that it will make you squeak; something so delicious
+that it will make your mouth water.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was addressed to Jamie, as the white mare
+leisurely trotted up to where the boy stood. Then
+Scantlebray drew up, with his elbows at right angles
+to his trunk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s my brother thirsting, ravening to make your
+acquaintance&mdash;and, by George! you are in luck&rsquo;s way,
+young hopeful, to make his. Obadiah! this here infant
+is an orphing. Orphing! this is Obadiah Scantlebray,
+whom I call Scanty because he is fat. Jump up, will y&rsquo;,
+into the gig.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie looked vacantly about him. He had an idea
+that he ought to wait for Judith or go directly home.
+But she had not forbidden him to have a ride, and a ride
+was what he dearly loved.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you coming?&rdquo; asked Scantlebray; &ldquo;or do you
+need a more ceremonious introduction to Mr. Obadiah,
+eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got a basket of shells,&rdquo; said Jamie. &ldquo;They belong
+to Ju.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, put Ju&rsquo;s basket in&mdash;the shells won&rsquo;t hurt&mdash;and
+then in with you. There&rsquo;s a nice little portmantle in
+front, on which you can sit and look us in the face, and
+if you don&rsquo;t tumble off with laughing, it will be because
+I strap you in. My brother is the very comicalest fellow
+in Cornwall. It&rsquo;s a wonder I haven&rsquo;t died of laughter.
+I should have, but our paths diverged; he took up the
+medical line, and I the valuation and all that, so my life
+was saved. Are you comfortable there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said Jamie, seated himself where advised.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now for the strap round ye,&rdquo; said Scantlebray.
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be alarmed; it&rsquo;s to hold you together, lest you
+split your sides with merriment, and to hold you in,
+lest you tumble overboard convulsed with laughter.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>161]</a></span>
+That brother of mine is the killingest man in Great
+Britain. Look at his face. Bless me! in church I
+should explode when I saw him, but that I am engrossed
+in my devotions. On with you, Juno!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That to the gray mare, and a whip applied to make
+the gray mare trot along, which she did, with her head
+down lost in thought, or as if smelling the road, to make
+sure that she was on the right track.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Tisn&rsquo;t what he says,&rdquo; remarked Mr. Scantlebray, seeing
+a questioning expression on Jamie&rsquo;s innocent face,
+&ldquo;it&rsquo;s the looks of him. And when he speaks&mdash;well, it&rsquo;s
+the way he says it more than what he says. I was at a
+Charity Trust dinner, and Obadiah said to the waiter,
+&lsquo;Cutlets, please!&rsquo; The fellow dropped the dish, and I
+stuffed my napkin into my mouth, ran out, and went into
+a fit. Now, Scanty, show the young gentleman how to
+make a rabbit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Scantlebray tickled up the mare with the
+lash of his whip, cast some objurgations at a horse-fly
+that was hovering and then darting at Juno.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Obadiah drew forth a white but very crumpled
+kerchief from his pocket, and proceeded to fold it on his
+lap.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just look at him,&rdquo; said the agent, &ldquo;doing it in spite
+of the motion of the gig. It&rsquo;s wonderful. But his face
+is the butchery. I can&rsquo;t look at it for fear of letting go
+the reins.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The roads were unfrequented; not a person was passing
+as the party jogged along. Mr. Scantlebray hissed
+to the mare between his front teeth, which were wide
+apart; then, turning his eye sideways, observed what
+his brother was about.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s his carcase,&rdquo; said he, in reference to the immature
+rabbit.</p>
+
+<p>Then a man was sighted coming along the road, humming
+a tune. It was Mr. Menaida.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How are you? Compliments to the young lady orphing,
+and say we&rsquo;re jolly&mdash;all three,&rdquo; shouted Scantlebray,
+urging his mare to a faster pace, and keeping her up to
+it till they had turned a corner, and Menaida was no
+more in sight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just look at his face, as he&rsquo;s a folding of that there
+pockyhandkercher,&rdquo; said the appraiser. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s exploding
+work.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>162]</a></span>
+Jamie looked into the stolid features of Mr. Obadiah,
+and laughed&mdash;laughed heartily, laughed till the tears
+ran down his cheeks. Not that he saw aught humorous
+there, but that he was told it was there, he ought to see
+it, and would be a fool if he were not convulsed by it.</p>
+
+<p>Precisely the same thing happens with us. We look
+at and go into raptures over a picture, because it is by
+a Royal Academician who has been knighted on account
+of his brilliant successes. We are charmed at a cantata,
+stifling our yawns, because we are told by the art critics
+who are paid to puff it, that we are fools, and have no
+ears if we do not feel charmed by it. We rush to read a
+new novel, and find it vastly clever, because an eminent
+statesman has said on a postcard it has pleased him.</p>
+
+<p>We laugh when told to laugh, condemn when told to
+condemn, and would stand on our heads if informed that
+it was bad for us to walk on our feet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There!&rdquo; said Mr. Scantlebray, the valuer. &ldquo;Them&rsquo;s
+ears.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Crrrh!&rdquo; went Mr. Obadiah, and the handkerchief,
+converted into a white bunny, shot from his hand up his
+sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t drive, &rsquo;pon my honor; I&rsquo;m too ill. You have
+done me for to-day,&rdquo; said Scantlebray the elder, the
+valuer. &ldquo;Now, young hopeful, what say you? Will you
+make a rabbit, also? I&rsquo;ll give you a shilling if you will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon Jamie took the kerchief and spread it out,
+and began to fold it. Whenever he went wrong Mr.
+Obadiah made signs, either by elevation of his brows
+and a little shake of his head, or by pointing, and his
+elder brother caught him at it and protested. Obadiah
+was the drollest fellow, he was incorrigible, as full of
+mischief as an egg is full of meat. There was no trusting
+him for a minute when the eye was off him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Scanty! I&rsquo;ll put you on your honor. Look
+the other way.&rdquo; But a moment after&mdash;&ldquo;Ah, for shame!
+there you are at it again. Young hopeful, you see what
+a vicious brother I have; perfectly untrustworthy, but
+such a comical dog. Full of tricks up to the ears. You
+should see him make shadows on the wall. He can represent
+a pig eating out of a trough. You see the ears
+flap, the jaws move, the eye twinkle in appreciation of
+the barley-meal. It is to the life, and all done by the two
+hands&mdash;by one, I may say, for the other serves as trough.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>163]</a></span>
+What! Done the rabbit! First rate! Splendid! Here
+is the shilling. But, honor bright, you don&rsquo;t deserve it;
+that naughty Scanty helped you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please,&rdquo; said Jamie, timidly, &ldquo;may I get out now and
+go home?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go home! What for?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want to show Ju my shilling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By ginger! that is too rich. Not a bit of it. Do you
+know Mistress Polgrean&rsquo;s sweetie shop?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But that&rsquo;s at Wadebridge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At Wadebridge; and why not? You will spend your
+shilling there. But look at my brother. It is distressing;
+his eyes are alight at the thoughts of the tartlets,
+and the sticks of peppermint sugar, and the almond
+rock. Are you partial to almond rock, orphin?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie&rsquo;s mind was at once engaged.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which is it to be? Gingerbreads or tartlets, almond
+rock or barley-sugar?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think I&rsquo;ll have the peppermint,&rdquo; said Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then peppermint it shall be. And you will give me
+a little bit, and Scanty a bit, and take a little bit home
+to Ju, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll take a little bit home to Ju, Obadiah, old
+man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The funny brother nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And the basket of shells?&rdquo; asked the elder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, she is making little boxes with them to sell,&rdquo;
+said Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose I may have the privilege of buying some,&rdquo;
+said Mr. Scantlebray, senior. &ldquo;Oh, look at that brother
+of mine! How he is screwing his nose about! I say,
+old man, are you ill? Upon my life, I believe he is
+laughing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Presently Jamie got restless.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please, Mr. Scantlebray, may I get out? Ju will be
+frightened at my being away so long.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor Ju!&rdquo; said Scantlebray, the elder. &ldquo;But no&mdash;don&rsquo;t
+you worry your mind about that. We passed Uncle
+Zachie, and he will tell her where you are, in good hands,
+or rather, nipped between most reliable knees&mdash;my
+brother&rsquo;s and mine. Sit still. I can&rsquo;t stop Juno; we&rsquo;re
+going down-hill now, and if I stopped Juno she would
+fall. You must wait&mdash;wait till we get to Mrs.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>164]</a></span>
+Polgrean&rsquo;s.&rdquo; Then, after chuckling-to himself, Scantlebray,
+senior, said: &ldquo;Obadiah, old man, I wonder what Missie
+Ju is thinking? I wonder what she will say, eh?&rdquo; Again
+he chuckled. &ldquo;No place in your establishment for that
+party, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The outskirts of Wadebridge were reached.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now may I get out?&rdquo; said Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless my heart! Not yet. Wait for Mrs. Polgrean&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But presently Mrs. Polgrean&rsquo;s shop-window was
+passed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, stop! stop!&rdquo; cried Jamie. &ldquo;We have gone by
+the sweetie shop.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course we have,&rdquo; answered Scantlebray, senior.
+&ldquo;I daren&rsquo;t trust that brother of mine in there; he has
+such a terrible sweet tooth. Besides, I want you to see
+the pig eating out of the trough. It will kill you. If it
+don&rsquo;t I&rsquo;ll give you another shilling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Presently he drew up at the door of a stiff, square-built
+house, with a rambling wing thrown out on one side. It
+was stuccoed and painted drab&mdash;drab walls, drab windows,
+and drab door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, then, young man,&rdquo; said Scantlebray, cheerily,
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll unbuckle the strap and let you out. You come in
+with me. This is my brother&rsquo;s mansion, roomy, pleasant,
+and comprehensive. You shall have a dish of tea.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And then I may go home?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And then&mdash;we shall see; shan&rsquo;t we, Obadiah, old
+man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They entered the hall, and the door was shut and fastened
+behind them; then into a somewhat dreary room,
+with red flock paper on the walls, no pictures, leather-covered,
+old, mahogany chairs, and a book or two on the
+table&mdash;one of these a Bible.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie looked wonderingly about him, a little disposed
+to cry. He was a long way from Polzeath, and Judith
+would be waiting for him and anxious, and the place
+into which he was ushered was not cheery, not inviting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, then,&rdquo; said Mr. Scantlebray, &ldquo;young hopeful,
+give me my shilling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please, I&rsquo;m going to buy some peppermint and burnt
+almonds for Ju and me as I go back.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, indeed! But suppose you do not have the
+chance?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie looked vacantly in his face, then into that of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>165]</a></span>
+stolid brother, who was not preparing to show him the
+pig feeding out of a trough, nor was he calling for tea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said Scantlebray, the elder; &ldquo;suppose I take
+charge of that shilling till you have the chance of spending
+it, young man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please, I&rsquo;ll spend it now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a bit. You won&rsquo;t have the chance. Do you know
+where you are!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie looked round in distress. He was becoming
+frightened at the altered tone of the valuer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; said Mr. Scantlebray, &ldquo;you&rsquo;re now an honorable
+inmate of my brother&rsquo;s Establishment for Idiots,
+which you don&rsquo;t leave till cured of imbecility. That shilling,
+if you please?&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>166]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">ALL IS FOR THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Judith returned to the cottage of Mr. Menaida, troubled
+in mind, for Aunt Dunes had been greatly incensed
+at the taking of the tobacco by Jamie, and not correspondingly
+gratified by the return of it so promptly by
+Judith. Miss Trevisa was a woman who magnified and
+resented any wrong done, but minimized and passed
+over as unworthy of notice whatever was generous, and
+every attempt made to repay an evil. Such attempts
+not only met with no favor from her, but were perverted
+in her crabbed mind into fresh affronts or injuries. That
+the theft of Jamie would not have been discovered had
+not Judith spoken of it and brought back what had been
+taken, was made of no account by Aunt Dionysia; she
+attacked Judith with sharp reproach for allowing the
+boy to be mischievous, for indulging him and suffering
+him to run into danger through his inquisitiveness and
+thoughtlessness. &ldquo;For,&rdquo; said Aunt Dionysia, &ldquo;had the
+master or any of his men found out what Jamie had
+done there is no telling how he might have been served.&rdquo;
+Then she had muttered: &ldquo;If you will not take precautions,
+other folk must, and the boy must be put where he
+can be properly looked after and kept from interfering
+with the affairs of others.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>On reaching Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s cottage, Judith called her
+brother, but as she did not receive an answer, she went
+in quest of him, and was met by the servant, Jump. &ldquo;If
+you please, miss,&rdquo; said Jump, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s been two gen&rsquo;lemen
+here, as said they was come from Mrs. Trevisa, and
+said they was to pack and take off Master Jamie&rsquo;s clothes.
+And please miss, I didn&rsquo;t know what to do&mdash;they was
+gen&rsquo;lemen, and the master&mdash;he was out, and you was out,
+miss&mdash;and Master Jamie, he wasn&rsquo;t to home n&rsquo;other.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Taken Jamie&rsquo;s clothes!&rdquo; repeated Judith, in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, miss, they brought a portmantle a-purpose;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>167]</a></span>
+and they&rsquo;d a gig at the door; and they spoke uncommon
+pleasant, leastwise one o&rsquo; them did.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And where is Jamie? Has he not come home?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, miss.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Mr. Menaida came in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, Judith? Jamie? Where Jamie is?&mdash;why,
+having a ride, seated between the two Scantlebrays,
+in their gig. That is where he is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Mr. Menaida, but they have taken his clothes!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Whose clothes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The two gentlemen came to this house when you and
+I were out, and told Jump that they were empowered by
+my aunt to pack up and carry off all Jamie&rsquo;s clothing,
+which they put into a portmanteau they had brought
+with them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And then picked up Jamie. He was sitting on the
+portmanteau,&rdquo; said Uncle Zachie; then his face became
+grave. &ldquo;They said that they acted under authority from
+Mrs. Trevisa?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So Jump says.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It can surely not be that he has been moved to the
+asylum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Asylum, Mr. Menaida?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The idiot asylum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith uttered a cry, and staggered back against the
+wall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie! my brother Jamie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray has such a place at Wadebridge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But Jamie is not an idiot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your aunt authorized them&mdash;,&rdquo; mused Uncle Zachie.
+&ldquo;Humph! you should see her about it. That is the first
+step, and ascertain whether she has done it, or whether
+they are acting with a high hand for themselves. I&rsquo;ll
+look at my law-books&mdash;if the latter it would be actionable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith did not hesitate for a moment. She hastened
+to Pentyre. That her aunt had left Othello Cottage she
+was pretty sure, as she was preparing to leave it when
+Judith returned with the tobacco. Accordingly she
+took the road to Pentyre at once. Tears of shame and
+pain welled up in her eyes at the thought of her darling
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>168]</a></span>
+brother being beguiled away to be locked up among the
+imbecile in a private establishment for the insane. Then
+her heart was contracted with anger and resentment at
+the scurvy trick played on her and him: She did not
+know that the Scantlebrays had been favored by pure
+accident. She conceived that men base enough to carry
+off her brother would watch and wait for the opportunity
+when to do it unobserved and unopposed. She hardly
+walked. She ran till her breath failed her, and the rapid
+throbbing of her heart would no longer allow her to
+run. Her dread of approaching the Glaze after the
+declaration made by Captain Cruel was overwhelmed in
+her immediate desire to know something about Jamie,
+in her anguish of fear for him. On Coppinger she did
+not cast a thought&mdash;her mind was so fully engrossed in
+her brother.</p>
+
+<p>She saw nothing of the Captain. She entered the
+house, and proceeded at once to her aunt&rsquo;s apartment.
+She found Miss Trevisa there, seated near the window,
+engaged on some chintz that she thought would do for
+the window at Othello Cottage, when she took possession
+of it. She had measured the piece, found that it was
+suitable, and was turning down a hem and tacking it.
+It was a pretty chintz, covered with sprigs of nondescript
+pink and blue flowers.</p>
+
+<p>Judith burst in on her, breathless, her brow covered
+with dew, her bosom heaving, her face white with distress,
+and tears standing on her eyelashes. She threw
+herself on her knees before Miss Trevisa, half crying out
+and half sobbing:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, aunt! they have taken him!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who have taken whom?&rdquo; asked the elderly lady,
+coldly.</p>
+
+<p>She raised her eyes and cast a look full of malevolence
+at Judith. She never had, did not, never would feel
+toward that girl as a niece. She hated her for her
+mother&rsquo;s sake, and now she felt an unreasonable bitterness
+against her, because she had fascinated Coppinger&mdash;perhaps,
+also, because in a dim fashion she was aware
+that she herself was acting toward the child in an unworthy,
+unmerciful manner, and we all hate those whom
+we wrong.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Auntie! tell me it is not so. Mr. Scantlebray and
+his brother have carried my darling Jamie away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>169]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Well, and what of that!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;will they let me have him back?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa pulled at the chintz. &ldquo;I will trouble
+you not to crumple this,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt! dear aunt! you did not tell Mr. Scantlebray
+to take Jamie away from me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The old lady did not answer, she proceeded to release
+the material at which she was engaged from under the
+knees of Judith. The girl, in her vehemence, put her
+hands to her aunt&rsquo;s arms, between the elbows and shoulders,
+and held and pressed them back, and with imploring
+eyes looked into her hard face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, auntie! you never sent Jamie to an asylum?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must beg you to let go my arms,&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa.
+&ldquo;This conduct strikes me as most indecorous
+toward one of my age and relationship.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She avoided Judith&rsquo;s eye, her brow wrinkled, and her
+lips contracted. The gall in her heart rose and overflowed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not ashamed of what I have done.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Auntie!&rdquo; with a cry of pain. Then Judith let go the
+old lady&rsquo;s arms, and clasped her hands over her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really,&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa, with asperity, &ldquo;you are
+a most exasperating person. I shall do with the boy
+what I see fit. You know very well that he is a thief.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He never took anything before to-day&mdash;never&mdash;and
+you had settled this before you knew about the tobacco!&rdquo;
+burst from Judith, in anger and with floods of
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I knew that he has always been troublesome and mischievous,
+and he must be placed where he can be properly
+managed by those accustomed to such cases.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is nothing the matter with Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have humored and spoiled him. If he is
+such a plague to all who know him, it is because he
+has been treated injudiciously. He is now with men
+who are experienced, and able to deal with the like of
+Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt, he must not be there. I promised my papa to
+be ever with him, and to look after him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then it is a pity your father did not set this down in
+writing. Please to remember that I, and not you, am
+constituted his guardian, by the terms of the will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, aunt! aunt! let him come back to me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>170]</a></span>
+Miss Trevisa shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then let me go to him!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hoity-toity! here&rsquo;s airs and nonsense. Really, Judith,
+you are almost imbecile enough to qualify for the
+asylum. But I cannot afford the cost of you both. Jamie&rsquo;s
+cost in that establishment will be &pound;70 in the year,
+and how much do you suppose that you possess?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith remained kneeling upright, with her hands
+clasped, looking earnestly through her tears at her
+aunt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have in all, between you, but &pound;45 or &pound;50. When
+the dilapidations are paid, and the expenses of the funeral,
+and the will-proving, and all that, I do not suppose
+you will be found to have a thousand pounds between
+you, and that put out to interest will not bring you
+more than I have said; so I shall have to make up
+the deficiency. That is not pleasing to me, you may
+well suppose. But I had rather pay &pound;25 out of my
+poor income, than have the name of the family disgraced
+by Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie will never, never disgrace the name. He is too
+good. And&mdash;it is wicked, it is cruel to put him where
+you have. He is not an idiot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am perhaps a better judge than you; so also is
+Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray, who has devoted his life to the
+care and study of the imbecile. Your brother has weak
+intellects.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is not clever; that is all. With application&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He cannot apply his mind. He has no mind that
+can be got to be applied.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt, he&rsquo;s no idiot. He must not be kept in that
+place.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You had best go back to Polzeath. I have decided
+on what I considered right. I have done my duty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It cannot be just. I will see what Mr. Menaida
+says. He must be released; if you will not let him out,
+I will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa looked up at her quickly between her
+half-closed lids; a bitter, cruel smile quivered about her
+lips. &ldquo;If any one can deliver him, it will be you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith did not understand her meaning, and Aunt
+Dionysia did not care at that time to further enlighten
+her thereon. Finding her aunt inflexible, the unhappy
+girl left Pentyre Glaze and hurried back to Polzeath,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>171]</a></span>
+where she implored Mr. Menaida to accompany her to
+Wadebridge. Go there she would&mdash;she must&mdash;that
+same evening. If he would not attend her, she would
+go alone. She could not rest, she could not remain in
+the house, till she had been to the place where Jamie
+was, and seen whether she could not release him thence
+by her entreaties, her urgency.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida shook his head. But he was a kind-hearted
+old man, and was distressed at the misery of
+the girl, and would not hear of her making the expedition
+alone, as she could not well return before dark.
+So he assumed his rough and shabby beaver hat, put
+on his best cravat, and sallied forth with Judith upon
+her journey to Wadebridge, one that he assured her
+must be fruitless, and had better be postponed till the
+morrow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot! I cannot!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I cannot sleep,
+thinking of my darling brother in that dreadful place,
+with such people about him, he crying, frightened, driven
+mad by the strangeness of it all, and being away from
+me. I must go. If I cannot save him and bring him
+back with me, I can see him and console him, and bid
+him wait in patience and hope.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida with a soft heart and a weak will, was
+hung about with scraps of old-world polish, scraps only.
+In him nothing was complete&mdash;here and there a bare
+place of rustic uncouthness, there patches of velvet
+courtesy of the Queen Anne age; so, also, was he
+made up of fine culture, of classic learning alternating
+with boorish ignorance&mdash;here high principle, there none
+at all&mdash;a picture worked to a miniature in points, and
+in others rudely roughed in and neglected. Now he
+was moved as he had not been moved for years by the
+manifest unhappiness of the girl, and he was willing to
+do his utmost to assist her, but that utmost consisted
+in little more than accompanying her to Wadebridge and
+ringing at the house-bell of Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray&rsquo;s
+establishment. When it came to the interview that
+ensued with the proprietor of the establishment and
+jailer of Jamie, he failed altogether. Judith and
+Uncle Zachie were shown into the dreary parlor
+without ornaments, and presently to them entered Mr.
+Obadiah.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, sir, is he here?&mdash;have you got Jamie here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>172]</a></span>
+Mr. Scantlebray nodded his head, then went to the
+door and knocked with his fists against the wall. A
+servant maid appeared. &ldquo;Send missus,&rdquo; said he, and
+returned to the parlor.</p>
+
+<p>Again Judith entreated to be told if her brother were
+there with all the vehemence and fervor of her tattered
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Obadiah listened with stolid face and vacant eyes
+that turned from her to Mr. Menaida, and then back to
+her again. Presently an idea occurred to him and his
+face brightened. He went to a sideboard, opened a long
+drawer, brought out a large book, thrust it before Judith,
+and said, &ldquo;Pictures.&rdquo; Then, as she took no notice of the
+book, he opened it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, please sir,&rdquo; pleaded Judith, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want
+that. I want to know about Jamie. I want to see
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then in at the door came a lady in black silk, with
+small curls about her brow. She was stout, but not
+florid.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;my dear, are you the young
+lady whose brother is here? Don&rsquo;t you fret yourself.
+He is as comfortable as a chick in a feathered nest.
+Don&rsquo;t you worry your little self about him now. Now
+your good days have begun. He will not be a trouble
+and anxiety to you any more. He is well cared for. I
+dare be sworn he has given you many an hour of
+anxiety. Now, O be joyful! that is over, and you can
+dance and play with a light heart. I have lifted the
+load off you, I and Mr. Scantlebray. Here he will be
+very comfortable and perfectly happy. I spare no pains
+to make my pets snug, and Scantlebray is inexhaustible
+in his ability to amuse them. He has a way with
+these innocents that is quite marvellous. Wait a while&mdash;give
+him and me a trial, and see what the result is.
+You may believe me as one of long and tried experience.
+It never does for amateurs&mdash;for relations&mdash;to undertake
+these cases; they don&rsquo;t know when to be firm, or when
+to yield. We do&mdash;it is our profession. We have studied
+the half-witted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But my brother is <em>not</em> half-witted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you say, and so it becomes you to say. Never
+admit that there is imbecility or insanity in the family.
+You are quite right, my dear; you look forward to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>173]</a></span>
+being married some day, and you know very well it might
+stand in the way of an engagement, were it supposed
+that you had idiocy in the family blood. It is quite
+right. I understand all that sort of thing. We call it
+nervous debility, and insanity we term nervous excitement.
+Scantlebray, my poppet, isn&rsquo;t it so!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Obadiah nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You leave all care to us; thrust it upon our
+shoulders. They will bear it; and never doubt that
+your brother will be cared for in body and in soul. In
+body&mdash;always something nice and light for supper,
+tapioca, rice-pudding, batter; to-night, rolly-poly. After
+that, prayers. We don&rsquo;t feed high, but we feed suitably.
+If you like to pay a little extra, we will feed higher.
+Now, my dear, you take all as for the best, and rely on it
+everything is right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But Jamie ought not to be locked up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, he is at school under the wisest and most
+experienced of teachers. You have mismanaged him.
+Now he will be treated professionally; and Mr. Scantlebray
+superintends not the studies only, but the amusements
+of the pupils. He has such a fund of humor in
+him.&rdquo; Obadiah at once produced his pocket-handkerchief
+and began to fold it. &ldquo;No, dear, no ducky, no rabbit
+now! You fond thing, you! always thinking of giving
+entertainment to some one. No, nor the parson preaching
+either.&rdquo; He was rolling his hands together and
+thrusting up his thumb as the representative of a sacred
+orator in his pulpit. &ldquo;No, ducky darling! another time.
+My husband is quite a godsend to the nervously prostrate.
+He can amuse them by the hour; he never
+wearies of it; he is never so happy as when he is entertaining
+them. You cannot doubt that your brother will
+be content in the house of such a man. Take my word
+for it; there is nothing like believing that all is for the
+best as it is. Our pupils will soon be going to bed.
+Rolly-poly and prayers, and then to bed&mdash;that is the
+order.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, let me see Jamie now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, my dear. It would be injudicious. He is settling
+in; he is becoming reconciled, and it would disturb
+him, and undo what has already been done. Don&rsquo;t you
+say so, poppet?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The poppet nodded his head.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>174]</a></span>
+&ldquo;You see, this great authority agrees with me. Now,
+this evening Jamie and the others shall have an extra
+treat. They shall have the pig eating out of the trough.
+There&mdash;what more can you desire? As soon as lights
+are brought in, then rolly-poly, prayers, and the pig and
+the trough. Another time you shall see him. Not to-night.
+It is inadvisable. Take my word for it, your
+brother is as happy as a boy can be. He has found
+plenty of companions of the same condition as himself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But he is <em>not</em> an idiot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, we know all about that; very nice and
+sweet for you to say so&mdash;isn&rsquo;t it duckie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The duckie agreed it was so.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is the bell. My dear, another time. You will
+promise to come and see me again? I have had such a
+delightful talk with you. Good-night, good-night. &lsquo;All
+is for the best in the best of worlds.&rsquo; Put that maxim
+under your head and sleep upon it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>175]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A NIGHT EXCURSION.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Some people are ever satisfied with what is certain to
+give themselves least trouble, especially if that something
+concerns other persons.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida was won over by the volubility of Mrs.
+Scantlebray and the placidity of Mr. Scantlebray to the
+conviction that Jamie was in the very best place he
+could possibly be in. A lady who called Judith &ldquo;my
+dear&rdquo; and her husband &ldquo;duckie&rdquo; must have a kindly
+heart, and a gentleman like Mr. Obadiah, so full of resources,
+could not fail to divert and gratify the minds of
+those under his charge, and banish care and sorrow. And
+as Mr. Menaida perceived that it would be a difficult
+matter to liberate Jamie from the establishment where
+he was, and as it was an easy matter to conclude that the
+establishment was admirably adapted to Jamie, he was
+content that Aunt Dionysia had chosen the wisest course
+in putting him there, and that it would be to the general
+advantage to cherish this opinion. For, in the first
+place, it would pacify Judith, and then, by pacifying her,
+would give himself none of that inconvenience, that running
+to and fro between Polzeath and Wadebridge, that
+consultation of law-books, that correspondence, that getting
+of toes and fingers into hot water, likely to result
+from the impatience, the unflagging eagerness of Judith
+to liberate her brother.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly Uncle Zachie used his best endeavors to
+assure Judith that Jamie certainly was happy, had never
+been so happy in his life before, and that, under the
+treatment of so kind and experienced a man as Mr. Obadiah
+Scantlebray, there was reason to believe that in a
+short time Jamie would issue from under his tuition a
+light so brilliant as to outshine the beacon on Trevose
+Head.</p>
+
+<p>Judith was unconvinced. Love is jealous and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>176]</a></span>
+timorous. She feared lest all should not be as was represented.
+There was an indefinable something in Mrs.
+Scantlebray that roused her suspicion. She could not
+endure that others should step into the place of responsibility
+toward Jamie she had occupied so long, and
+which she had so solemnly assured her father she would
+never abandon. Supposing that Scantlebray and his
+wife were amiable and considerate persons, might they
+not so influence the fickle Jamie as to displace her from
+his affections and insinuate themselves in her room?</p>
+
+<p>But it was not this mainly that troubled her. She was
+tormented with the thought of the lonely, nervous child
+in the strange house, among strange people, in desolation
+of heart and deadly fear.</p>
+
+<p>Whenever he had become excited during the day he
+was sleepless at night, and had to be soothed and coaxed
+into slumber. On such occasions she had been wont,
+with the infinite, inexhaustible patience of true love, to
+sit by his bed, pacifying his alarms, allaying his agitation,
+singing to him, stroking his hair, holding his
+hand, till his eyes closed. And how often, just as he
+seemed about to drop asleep, had he become again
+suddenly awake, through some terror, or some imagined
+discomfort? then all the soothing process had to be
+gone through again, and it had always been gone
+through without a murmur or an impatient word.</p>
+
+<p>Now Jamie was alone&mdash;or perhaps worse than alone&mdash;in
+a dormitory of idiots, whose strange ways filled him
+with terror, and his dull mind would be working to discover
+how he came to be there, how it was that his Ju
+was not with him. Who would lull his fears, who sing
+to him old familiar strains? Would any other hand rest
+on the hot brow and hold it down on the pillow?</p>
+
+<p>Judith looked up to heaven, to the stars already glimmering
+there. She was not hearkening to the talk of
+Uncle Zachie: she was thinking her own thoughts. She
+was indeed walking back to Polzeath; but her mind was
+nailed to that dull drab house in the suburbs of Wadebridge
+with the brass plate on the door, inscribed, &ldquo;Mr.
+Scantlebray, Surgeon.&rdquo; As her eyes were raised to the
+stars, she thought of her father. He was above, looking
+down on her, and it seemed to her that in the flicker of
+the stars she saw the trouble in her father&rsquo;s face at the
+knowledge that his children were parted, and his poor
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>177]</a></span>
+little half-bright boy was fallen among those who had
+no love for him, might have no patience with his waywardness,
+would not make allowance for his infirmities.</p>
+
+<p>She sobbed, and would not be comforted by Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s
+assurances. Tired, foot-weary, but more tired and
+weary in heart and mind, she reached the cottage. She
+could not sleep; she was restless. She sought Jamie&rsquo;s
+room, and seated herself on the chair by his little bed,
+and sobbed far on into the night. Her head ached, as
+did her burning and blistered feet; and as she sat she
+dozed off, then awoke with a start, so distinctly did she
+seem to hear Jamie&rsquo;s voice&mdash;his familiar tone when in
+distress&mdash;crying, &ldquo;Ju! Come to me, Ju!&rdquo; So vividly
+did the voice sound to her that she could not for a moment
+or two shake off the conviction that she had in
+reality heard him. She thought that he must have called
+her. He must be unhappy. What were those people
+doing to him? Were they tormenting the poor little
+frightened creature? Were they putting him into a dark
+room by himself, and was he nearly mad with terror?
+Were they beating him, because he cried out in the night
+and disturbed the house?</p>
+
+<p>She imagined him sitting up on a hard bed, shivering
+with fear, looking round him in the dark, and screaming
+for her&mdash;and she could not help him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Jamie!&rdquo; she cried, and threw herself on her
+knees and put her hands over her eyes to shut out the
+horrible sight, over her ears to close them to the piercing
+cry. &ldquo;They will drive him mad! Oh, papa! my
+papa! what will you say to me? Oh, my Jamie! what
+can I do for you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was half mad herself, mad with fancies, conjured
+up by the fever of distress into which she had worked
+herself. What could she do? She could not breathe in
+that room. She could not breathe in the house. She
+could not remain so far from Jamie&mdash;and he crying for
+her. His voice rang still in her ears. It sounded in her
+heart, it drew her irresistibly away. If she could but be
+outside that drab establishment in the still night, to
+listen, and hear if all were quiet within, or whether
+Jamie were calling, shrieking for her. He would cry himself
+into fits. He would become really deranged, unless
+he were pacified. Oh! those people!&mdash;she imagined
+they were up, not knowing what to do with the boy,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>178]</a></span>
+unable to soothe him, and were now wishing that she were
+there, wishing they had not sent her away.</p>
+
+<p>Judith was in that condition which is one of half craze
+through brooding on her fears, through intense sympathy
+with the unhappy boy so ruthlessly spirited away,
+through fever of the blood, caused by long-protracted
+nervous strain, through over-weariness of mind and body.
+Jamie&rsquo;s distress, his need for her became an idea that
+laid hold of her, that could not be dispelled, that
+tortured her into recklessness. She could not lie on her
+bed, she could not rest her head for one moment. She
+ran to the window, panting, and smoked the glass with
+her burning breath, so that she could not see through it.</p>
+
+<p>The night was still, the sky clear, and there were stars
+in it. Who would be abroad at that time? What danger
+would ensue to her if she went out and ran back to
+Wadebridge? If any foot were to be heard on the road,
+she could hide. She had gone out at night in storm to
+save Cruel Coppinger&mdash;should she not go out in still
+starlight to aid her own twin-brother, if he needed her?
+Providence had shielded her before&mdash;it would shield her
+now.</p>
+
+<p>The house was quiet. Mr. Menaida had long ago
+gone to bed, and was asleep. His snores were usually
+audible at night through the cottage. Jump was asleep,
+sound in sleep as any hard-worked sewing-wench. Judith
+had not undressed, had not taken off her shoes; she had
+wandered, consumed by restlessness, between her own
+room and that of her brother.</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible for her to remain there. She felt
+that she would die of imaginings of evil unless she were
+near Jamie, unless there were naught but a wall between
+him and her.</p>
+
+<p>Judith descended the stairs and once again went forth
+alone into the night, not now to set her face seaward, but
+landward; before she had gone with a defined aim in
+view, to warn Coppinger of his danger, now she was
+moved by a vague suspicion of evil.</p>
+
+<p>The night was calm, but there was summer lightning
+on the horizon, attended by no thunder, a constant flicker,
+sometimes a flare, as though some bonfire were kindled
+beyond the margin of the world, that was being stirred
+and added to. The air was close.</p>
+
+<p>Judith had no one to look to in the world to help her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>179]</a></span>
+and Jamie&mdash;not her aunt, her sole relative, it was she who
+had sent her brother to this place of restraint; not Mr.
+Menaida, he had not the moral courage and energy of
+purpose to succor her in her effort to release Jamie; not
+Captain Coppinger&mdash;him she dare not ask, lest he should
+expect too much in return. The hand of misfortune was
+heavy on the girl; if anything was to be done to relieve
+the pressure, she must do it herself.</p>
+
+<p>As she was going hastily along the lane she suddenly
+halted. She heard some one a little way before her.
+There was no gate near by which she could escape. The
+lane was narrow, and the hedges low, so as not to afford
+sufficient shadow to conceal her. By the red summer
+flashes she saw a man reeling toward her round the
+corner. His hat was on one side of his head, and he
+lurched first to one side of the lane, then to the other.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem27">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;There went three trav&rsquo;llers over the moor&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph! said he.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Three trav&rsquo;llers over the moor so green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The one sang high, the third sang low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph! said he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the second he trolled between.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Then he stood still.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Huph! huph!&rdquo; he shouted. &ldquo;Some one else go on,
+I&rsquo;m done for&mdash;&lsquo;Ri-tiddle-de.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He saw Judith by the starlight and by the flicker of
+the lightning, and put his head on one side and capered
+toward her with arms extended, chirping&mdash;&ldquo;&lsquo;Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol,
+huph! said he.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith started on one side, and the drunken man pursued
+her, but in so doing, stumbled, and fell sprawling
+on the ground. He scrambled to his feet again, and
+began to swear at her and sent after her a volley of foul
+and profane words. Had he contented himself with this
+it would have been bad enough, but he also picked up a
+stone and threw it. Judith felt a blow on her head, and
+the lightning flashes seemed to be on all sides of her,
+and then great black clouds to be rising like smoke out
+of the earth about her. She staggered into the hedge,
+and sank on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>But fear lest the tipsy ruffian should pursue her nerved
+her to make an effort to escape. She quickly rose and
+ran along the lane, turned the corner, and ran on till her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>180]</a></span>
+feet would no longer bear her, and her breath failed.
+Then, looking back, and seeing that she was not followed,
+she seated herself, breathless, and feeling sick, in the
+hedge, where a glow-worm was shining, with a calm,
+steady light, very different from the flicker of the stars
+above.</p>
+
+<p>As she there sat, she was conscious of something warm
+on her neck, and putting her hand up, felt that it was
+moist. She held her fingers to the faint glow of the
+worm in the grass; there was a dark stain on her hand,
+and she was sure that it was blood.</p>
+
+<p>She felt her head swim, and knew that in another moment
+she would lose consciousness, unless she made an
+effort to resist. Hastily she bound a white handkerchief
+about her head where wounded by the stone, to
+stay the flow, and walked resolutely forward.</p>
+
+<p>There was now a shadow stealing up the sky to the
+south, and obscuring the stars, a shadow behind which
+danced and wavered the electrical light, but Judith heard
+no thunder, she had not the leisure to listen for it; all
+her anxiety was to reach Wadebridge. But the air, the
+oppressively sultry air, was charged with sound, the
+mutter and growl of the Atlantic. The ocean, never at
+rest, ever gives forth a voice, but the volume of its tone
+varies. Now it was loud and threatening, loud and
+threatening as it had been on that afternoon when Judith
+sat with her father in the rectory garden, tossing guelder-roses.
+Then, the air had been still, but burdened
+with the menace of the sea. So it was now at midnight;
+the ocean felt the influence of the distant storm that was
+playing far away to the south.</p>
+
+<p>Judith could not run now. Her feet were too sore,
+her strength had given way. Resolute though her will
+might be, it could not inspire with masculine strength
+the fragile little body, recently recovered from sickness.
+But it carried her into the suburbs of Wadebridge, and
+in the starlight she reached the house of Mr. Obadiah
+Scantlebray, and stood before it, looking up at it despairingly.
+It was not drab in color now, it was lampblack
+against a sky that flashed in the russet-light. The kerchief
+she had tied about her head had become loose. Still
+looking at the ugly, gloomy house, she put up her arms
+and rebound it, knotting the ends more tightly, using
+care not to cover her ears, as she was intent to hear the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>181]</a></span>
+least sound, that issued from the asylum. But for some
+time she could hear nothing save the rush of her blood
+in her ears, foaming, hissing, like the tide entering a bay
+over reefs. With this was mingled the mutter of the Atlantic,
+beyond the hills&mdash;and now&mdash;yes, certainly now&mdash;the
+rumble of remote thunder.</p>
+
+<p>Judith had stood on the opposite side of the street
+looking up at Scantlebray&rsquo;s establishment; she saw no
+light anywhere. Now she drew near and crept along
+the walls. There was a long wing, with its back to the
+street, without a window in the wall, and she thought it
+probable that the inmates of the asylum were accommodated
+therein, a dormitory up-stairs, play or school-rooms
+below. There Jamie must be. The only windows to
+this wing opened into the garden; and consequently
+Judith stole along the garden wall, turned the angle,
+down a little lane, and stood listening. The wall was
+high, and the summit encrusted with broken glass. She
+could see the glass prongs by the flicker of the lightning.
+She could not possibly see over the wall; the
+lane was too narrow for her to go back far, and the wall
+on the further side too high to climb. Not a sound
+from within reached her ears.</p>
+
+<p>In the still night she stood holding her breath.</p>
+
+<p>Then a scream startled her.</p>
+
+<p>It was the cry of a gull flying inland.</p>
+
+<p>If a gull&rsquo;s cry could be heard, then surely that of her
+brother, were he awake and unhappy, and wanting her.</p>
+
+<p>She went further down the wall, and came on a small
+garden gate in it, fastened, locked from within. It had
+a stone step. On that she sank, and laid her head in her
+hands.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>182]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXV.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">FOUND.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Strange mystery of human sympathy! inexplicable,
+yet very real. Irrational, yet very potent. The young
+mother has accepted an invitation to a garden-party.
+She knows that she never looked better than at present,
+with a shade of delicacy about her. She has got a new
+bonnet that is particularly becoming, and which she desires
+to wear in public. She has been secluded from society
+for several months, and she longs to meet her
+friends again. She knows that she is interesting, and
+believes herself to be more interesting than she really is.
+So she goes. She is talking, laughing, a little flushed
+with pleasure, when suddenly she becomes grave, the
+hand that holds the plate of raspberries and cream
+trembles. All her pleasure is gone. She knows that
+baby is crying. Her eye wanders in quest of her husband,
+she runs to him, touches his arm, says&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do order the carriage; baby is crying.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It is all fiddle-de-dee. Baby has the best of nurses,
+the snuggest, daintiest little cot; has a fresh-opened tin
+of condensed Swiss milk. Reason tells her that; but no!
+and nurse cannot do anything to pacify the child, baby
+is crying, nurse is in despair.</p>
+
+<p>In like manner now did Judith argue with herself,
+without being able to convince her heart. Her reason
+spoke and said to her&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>No sound of cries comes from the asylum. There is
+no light in any window. Every inmate is asleep, Jamie
+among them. He does not need you. He is travelling
+in dreamland. The Scantlebrays have been kind to
+him. The lady is a good, motherly body; the gentleman&rsquo;s
+whole soul is devoted to finding amusement and
+entertainment for the afflicted creatures under his care.
+He has played tricks before Jamie, made shadow-pictures
+on the wall, told funny stories, made jacks-in-the-box
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>183]</a></span>
+with his hands, and Jamie has laughed till he was
+tired, and his heavy eyes closed with a laugh not fully
+laughed out on his lips. The Scantlebrays are paid &pound;70
+for taking care of Jamie, and &pound;70 in Judith&rsquo;s estimation
+was a very princely sum. The &pound;70 per annum Mr. Scantlebray
+would corruscate into his richest fun, and Mrs.
+Scantlebray&rsquo;s heart overflowed with warmest maternal
+affection.</p>
+
+<p>But it was in vain that Judith thus reasoned, her heart
+would not be convinced. An indescribable unrest was
+in her, and would not be laid. She knew by instinct
+that Jamie wanted her, was crying for her, was stretching
+out his hands in the dark for her.</p>
+
+<p>As she sat on the step not only did reason speak, but
+judgment also. She could do nothing there. She had
+acted a foolish part in coming all that way in the dark,
+and without a chance of effecting any deliverance to
+Jamie now she had reached her destination. She had
+committed an egregious error in going such a distance
+from home, from anyone who might serve as protector to
+her in the event of danger, and there were other dangers
+she might encounter than having stones thrown at her
+by drunken men. If the watch were to find her there,
+what explanation of her presence could she give?
+Would they take her away and lock her up for the rest
+of the night? They could not leave her there. Large,
+warm drops, like tears from angels&rsquo; eyes, fell out of
+heaven upon her folded hands, and on her bowed neck.</p>
+
+<p>She began to feel chilled after having been heated by
+her walk, so she rose, and found that she had become
+stiff. She must move about, however sore and weary
+her feet might be.</p>
+
+<p>She had explored the lane as far as was needful. She
+could not see from it into the house, the garden, and
+playground. Was it possible that there was a lane on
+the further side of the house which would give her the
+desired opportunity?</p>
+
+<p>Judith resolved to return by the way she had come,
+down the lane into the main street, then to walk along
+the front of the house, and explore the other side. As
+she was descending the lane she noticed, about twenty
+paces from the door, on the further side, a dense mass of
+Portugal laurel that hung over the opposite wall, casting
+a shadow of inky blackness into the lane. This she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>184]</a></span>
+considered might serve her as shelter when the threatening
+storm broke and the rain poured down. She
+walked through this shadow, and would have entered
+the street, but that she perceived certain dark objects
+passing noiselessly along it. By the flashes of lightning
+she could distinguish men with laden asses, and
+one she saw turn to enter the lane where she was. She
+drew back hastily into the blot cast by the bush that
+swung its luxuriance over the wall, and drew as closely
+back to the wall as was possible. Thus she could not be
+seen, for the reflection of the lightning would not fall on
+her; every glare made the shadow seem the deeper.
+Though concealed herself, and wholly invisible, she was
+able to distinguish a man with an ass passing by, and
+then halting at the door in the wall that surrounded Mr.
+Obadiah&rsquo;s tenement. There the man knocked, and uttered
+a peculiar whistle. As there ensued no immediate
+answer he knocked and whistled again, whereupon the
+door was opened; and a word or two was passed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How many do you want, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Four.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Any to help to carry the half-ankers!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no odds. I&rsquo;ll carry one and you the t&rsquo;other.
+We&rsquo;ll make two journeys, that&rsquo;s all. I can&rsquo;t leave
+Neddy for long, but I&rsquo;ll go with you to your house-door.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Probably the person addressed nodded a reply in the
+darkness; he made no audible answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which is it, Mr. Obadiah, rum or brandy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Brandy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Right you are, then. These are brandy. You won&rsquo;t
+take three brandies and one rum?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All right, sir; lead the way. It&rsquo;s deuced dark.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith knew what this signified. Some of the householders
+of Wadebridge were taking in their supplies of
+spirits from the smugglers. Owing to the inconvenience
+of it being unlawful to deal with these men for
+such goods, they had to receive their purchases at night,
+and with much secrecy. There were watchmen at Wadebridge,
+but on such nights they judiciously patrolled
+another quarter of the town than that which received its
+supplies. The watchmen were municipal officials, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>185]</a></span>
+were not connected with the excise, had no particular
+regard for the inland revenue, anyhow, owed no duties
+to the officers of the coast-guard. Their superior was
+the mayor, and the mayor was fond of buying his spirits
+at the cheapest market.</p>
+
+<p>Both men disappeared. The door was left open behind
+them. The opportunity Judith had desired had
+come. Dare she seize it? For a moment she questioned
+her heart, then she resolutely stepped out of the
+shadow of the Portugal laurel, brushed past the patient
+ass, entered the grounds of Mr. Scantlebray&rsquo;s establishment
+through the open garden-door, and drew behind a
+syringa bush to consider what further step she should
+take. In another moment both men were back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are sure you don&rsquo;t mind one rum?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Right you are, then; I&rsquo;ll have it for you direct. The
+other kegs are at t&rsquo;other end of the lane. You come
+with me, and we&rsquo;ll have &rsquo;em down in a jiffy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith heard both men pass out of the door. She
+looked toward the house. There was a light low down
+in a door opening into the garden or yard where she was.</p>
+
+<p>Not a moment was to be lost. As soon as the last
+kegs were brought in the house-door would be locked,
+and though she had entered the garden she would be
+unable to penetrate to the interior of the asylum. Without
+hesitation, strong in her earnest purpose to help
+Jamie to the utmost of her power, and grasping at every
+chance that offered, she hastened, cautiously indeed, but
+swiftly, to the door whence the light proceeded. The
+light was but a feeble one, and cast but a fluttering ray
+upon the gravel. Judith was careful to walk where it
+could not fall on her dress.</p>
+
+<p>The whole garden front of the house was now before
+her. She was in a sort of gravelled yard, with some
+bushes against the walls. The main block of the house
+lay to her right, and the view of it was intercepted by a
+wall. Clearly the garden space was divided, one portion
+for the house, and another, that into which she had entered,
+for the wing. That long wing rose before her
+with its windows all dark above, and the lower or ground
+floor also dark. Only from the door issued the light,
+and she saw that a guttering tallow candle was set there
+on the floor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>186]</a></span>
+Hastily she drew back. She heard feet on the gravel.
+The men were returning, Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray and
+the smuggler, each laden with a small cask of spirits.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Right you are,&rdquo; said the man, as he set his keg down
+in the passage, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s yours, and I could drink your
+health, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You wouldn&rsquo;t&mdash;prefer?&mdash;&rdquo; Mr. Scantlebray made
+contortions with his hands between the candle and the
+wall, and threw a shadow on the surface of plaster.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, thanks sir, I&rsquo;d prefer a shilling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray fumbled in his pockets, grunted
+&ldquo;Humph! purse up-stairs.&rdquo; Felt again, &ldquo;No,&rdquo; groped
+inside the breast of his waistcoat, &ldquo;another time&mdash;not
+forget.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The man muttered something not complimentary, and
+turned to go through the yard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Must lock door,&rdquo; said Mr. Obadiah, and went after
+him. Now was Judith&rsquo;s last chance. She took it at
+once; the moment the backs of the two men were turned
+she darted into the passage and stood back against the
+door out of the flare of the candle.</p>
+
+<p>The passage was a sort of hall with slated floor, the
+walls plastered and whitewashed at one time, but the
+wash and plaster had been picked off to about five feet
+from the floor wherever not strongly adhesive, giving a
+diseased and sore look to the wall. The slates of the
+floor were dirty and broken.</p>
+
+<p>Judith looked along the hall for a place to which she
+could retreat on the return of the proprietor of the establishment.
+She had entered that portion of the building
+tenanted by the unhappy patients. The meanness
+of the passage, the picked walls, the situation on one
+side of the comfortable residence showed her this. A
+door there was on the right, ajar, that led into the private
+dwelling-house, but into that Judith did not care
+to enter. One further down on the left probably gave
+access to some apartment devoted to the &ldquo;pupils,&rdquo; as
+Mrs. Scantlebray called the patients.</p>
+
+<p>There was, however, another door that was open, and
+from it descended a flight of brick steps to what Judith
+conjectured to be the cellars. At the bottom a second
+candle, in a tin candlestick, was guttering and flickering
+in the draught that blew in at the yard door, and descended
+to this underground story. It was obvious to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>187]</a></span>
+the girl that Mr. Scantlebray was about to carry or roll
+his kegs just acquired down the brick steps to his cellar.
+For that purpose he had set a candle there. It would
+not therefore do for her, to attempt to avoid him, to descend
+to this lower region. She must pass the door
+that gave access to the cellars, a door usually locked, as
+she judged, for a large iron key stood in the lock, and
+enter the room, the door of which opened further down
+the passage.</p>
+
+<p>She was drawing her skirts together, so as to slip past
+the candle on the passage floor for this purpose, when
+her heart stood still as though she had received a blow
+on it. She heard&mdash;proceeding from somewhere beneath
+down those steps&mdash;a moan, then a feeble cry of &ldquo;Ju!
+Where are you? Ju! Ju! Ju!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She all but did cry out herself. A gasp of pain and
+horror did escape her, and then, without a thought of
+how she could conceal herself, how avoid Scantlebray,
+she ran down the steps to the cellar.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the bottom she found that there were
+four doors, two of which had square holes cut in them,
+but with iron bars before these openings. The door of
+one of the others, one on the left, was open, and she could
+see casks and bottles. It was a wine and spirit cellar,
+and the smell of wine issued from it.</p>
+
+<p>She stood panting, frightened, fearing what she might
+discover, doubting whether she had heard her brother&rsquo;s
+voice or whether she was a prey to fancy. Then again
+she heard a cry and a moan. It issued from the nearest
+cell on her right hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie! my Jamie!&rdquo; she cried.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ju! Ju!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The door was hasped, with a crook let into a staple so
+that it might, if necessary, be padlocked. But now it
+was simply shut and a wooden peg was thrust through
+the eye of the crook.</p>
+
+<p>She caught up the candle, and with trembling hand
+endeavored to unfasten the door, but so agitated was
+she, so blinded with horror, that she could not do so till
+she had put down the candle again. Then she forced
+the peg from its place and raised the crook. She stooped
+and took up the candle once more, and then, with a
+short breath and a contraction of the breast, threw open
+the door, stepped in, and held up the light.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>188]</a></span>
+The candle flame irradiated what was but a cellar compartment
+vaulted with brick, once whitewashed, now
+dirty with cobwebs and accumulated dust and damp
+stains. It had a stone shelf on one side, on which lay a
+broken plate and some scraps of food.</p>
+
+<p>Against the further wall was a low truckle bed, with a
+mattress on it and some rags of blanket. Huddled on
+this lay Jamie, his eyes dilated with terror, and yet red
+with weeping. His clothes had been removed, except
+his shirt. His long red-gold hair had lost all its gloss
+and beauty, it was wet with sweat and knotted. The
+boy&rsquo;s face was ghastly in the flickering light.</p>
+
+<p>Judith dropped the candle on the floor, and rushed
+with outstretched arms, and a cry&mdash;piercing, but beaten
+back on her by the walls and vault of the cell&mdash;and
+caught the frightened boy to her heart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie! O my Jamie! my Jamie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She swayed herself, crying, in the bed, holding him
+to her, with no thought, her whole being absorbed in a
+spasm of intensest, most harrowing pain. The tallow
+candle was on the slate floor, fallen, melting, spluttering,
+flaming.</p>
+
+<p>And in the door, holding the brandy keg upon his
+shoulders, stood, with open eyes and mouth, Mr. Obadiah
+Scantlebray.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>189]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVI.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">AN UNWILLING PRISONER.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Obadiah stood open-mouthed staring at the twins
+clasped in each other&rsquo;s arms, unable at first to understand
+what he saw. Then a suspicion entered his dull
+brain, he uttered a growl, put down the keg, his heavy
+brows contracted, he shut his mouth, drawing in his
+lips so that they disappeared, and he clenched his
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wait&mdash;I&rsquo;ll beat you!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>The upset candle was on the floor, now half molten,
+with a pond of tallow burning with a lambent blue
+flicker trembling on extinction, then shooting up in a
+yellow flame.</p>
+
+<p>In that uncertain, changeful, upward light the face of
+the man looked threatening, remorseless, so that Judith,
+in a paroxysm of fear for her brother and herself dropped,
+on her knee, and caught at the tin candlestick as the
+only weapon of defence accessible. It was hot and
+burnt her fingers, but she did not let go; and as she
+stood up the dissolved candle fell from it among some
+straw that littered the pavement. This at once kindled
+and blazed up into golden flame.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the cell was full of light. Mr. Obadiah
+at once saw the danger. His casks of brandy were hard
+by&mdash;the fume of alcohol was in the air&mdash;if the fire spread
+and caught his stores a volume of flame would sweep
+up the cellar stair and set his house on fire. He hastily
+sprang in, and danced about the cell stamping furiously
+at the ignited wisps. Judith, who saw him rush forward,
+thought he was about to strike her and Jamie,
+and raised the tin candlestick in self-defence; but when
+she saw him engaged in trampling out the fire, tearing
+at the bed to drag away the blankets with which to
+smother the embers, she drew Jamie aside from his
+reach, sidled, with him clinging to her, along the wall,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>190]</a></span>
+and by a sudden spring reached the passage, slammed
+the door, fastened the hasp, and had the gaoler secured
+in his own gaol.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Mr. Scantlebray was unaware that he
+was a prisoner, so busily engaged was he in trampling
+out the fire, but the moment he did realize the fact he
+slung himself with all his force against the door.</p>
+
+<p>Judith looked round her. There was now no light in
+the cellar but the feeble glimmer that descended the
+stair from the candle above. The flame of that was now
+burning steadily, for the door opening into the yard was
+shut, and the draught excluded.</p>
+
+<p>In dragging Jamie along with her, Judith had drawn
+forth a scanty blanket that was about his shoulders.
+She wrapped it round the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me out!&rdquo; roared Scantlebray. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t understand.
+Fun&mdash;rollicking fun.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith paid no attention to his bellow. She was concerned
+only to escape with Jamie. She was well aware
+that her only chance was by retaining Mr. Obadiah
+where he was.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me out!&rdquo; again shouted the prisoner; and he
+threw himself furiously against the door. But though
+it jarred on its hinges and made the hasp leap, he could
+not break it down. Nevertheless, so big and strong was
+the man that it was by no means improbable that his
+repeated efforts might start a staple or snap a hinge
+band, and he and the door might come together crashing
+down into the passage between the cells.</p>
+
+<p>Judith drew Jamie up the steps, and on reaching the
+top shut the cellar door. Below, Mr. Scantlebray roared,
+swore, shouted, and beat against the door; but now his
+voice, and the sound of his blows were muffled, and would
+almost certainly be inaudible in the dwelling-house.
+No wonder that Judith had not heard the cries of her
+brother. It had never occurred to her that the hapless
+victim of the keeper of the asylum might be chastised,
+imprisoned, variously maltreated in regions underground,
+whence no sounds of distress might reach the street, and
+apprise the passers-by that all was not laughter within.
+Standing in the passage or hall above, Judith said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Jamie! where are your clothes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boy looked into her face with a vacant and distressed
+expression. He could not answer, he did not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>191]</a></span>
+even understand her question, so stupefied was he by his
+terrors, and the treatment he had undergone.</p>
+
+<p>Judith took the candle from the floor and searched
+the hall. Nothing was there save Mr. Scantlebray&rsquo;s coat,
+which he had removed and cast across one of the kegs
+when he prepared to convey them down to his cellar.
+Should she take that? She shook her head at the
+thought. She would not have it said that she had taken
+anything out of the house, except only&mdash;as that was an
+extreme necessity, the blanket wrapped about Jamie.
+She looked into the room that opened beyond the cellar
+door. It was a great bare apartment, containing only a
+table and some forms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie!&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;we must get away from this
+place as we are. There is no help for it. Do you not
+know where your clothes were put?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head. He clung to her with both arms,
+as though afraid, if he held by but one that she would
+slip away and vanish, as one drowning, clinging to the
+only support that sustained him from sinking.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Jamie! It cannot be otherwise!&rdquo; She set
+down the candle, opened the door into the yard, and
+issued forth into the night along with the boy. The
+clouds had broken, and poured down their deluge of
+warm thunder rain. In the dark Judith was unable to
+find her direction at once, she reached the boundary
+wall where was no door.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie uttered a cry of pain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, dear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The stones cut my feet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She felt along the wall with one hand till she touched
+the jamb, then pressed against the door itself. It was
+shut. She groped for the lock. No key was in it. She
+could as little escape from that enclosure as she could
+enter into it from without. The door was very solid,
+and the lock big and secure. What was to be done?
+Judith considered for a moment, standing in the pouring
+rain through which the lightning flashed obscurely,
+illumining nothing. It seemed to her that there was but
+one course open to her, to return and obtain the key
+from Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray. But it would be no
+easy matter to induce him to surrender it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie! will you remain at the door? Here under
+the wall is some shelter. I must go back.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>192]</a></span>
+But the boy was frightened at the prospect of being
+deserted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then&mdash;Jamie, will you come back with me to the
+house?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>No, he would not do that.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must go for the key, dearest,&rdquo; she said, coaxingly.
+&ldquo;I cannot open the door, so that we can escape, unless I
+have the key. Will you do something for Ju? Sit
+here, on the steps, where you are somewhat screened
+from the rain, and sing to me something, one of our old
+songs&mdash;A jolly hawk and his wings were gray? sing
+that, that I may hear your voice and find my way back
+to you. Oh&mdash;and here, Jamie, your feet are just the size
+of mine, and so you shall pull on my shoes. Then you
+will be able to run alongside of me and not hurt your
+soles.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With a little persuasion she induced him to do as she
+asked. She took off her own shoes and gave them to
+him, then went across the yard to where was the house,
+she discovered the door by a little streak of light below
+it and the well trampled and worn threshold stone. She
+opened the door, took up the candle and again descended
+the steps to the cellar floor. On reaching the bottom,
+she held up the light and saw that the door was still
+sound; at the square barred opening was the red face of
+Mr. Scantlebray.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me out,&rdquo; he roared.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me the key of the garden door.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you let me out if I do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; but this I promise, as soon as I have escaped
+from your premises I will knock and ring at your front
+door till I have roused the house, and then you will be
+found and released. By that time we shall have got well
+away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will not give you the key.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then here you remain,&rdquo; said Judith, and began to
+reascend the steps. It had occurred to her, suddenly,
+that very possibly the key she desired was in the pocket
+of the coat Mr. Scantlebray had cast off before descending
+to the cellar. She would hold no further communication
+with him till she had ascertained this. He yelled
+after her &ldquo;Let me out, and you shall have the key.&rdquo;
+But she paid no attention to his promise. On reaching
+the top of the stairs, she again shut the door, and took
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>193]</a></span>
+up his coat. She searched the pockets. No key was
+within.</p>
+
+<p>She must go to him once more.</p>
+
+<p>He began to shout as he saw the flicker of the candle
+approach. &ldquo;Here is the key, take it, and do as you
+said.&rdquo; His hand, a great coarse hand, was thrust through
+the opening in the door, and in it was the key she required.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I will do as I undertook.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She put her hand, the right hand, up to receive the
+key. In her left was the candlestick. Suddenly he let
+go the key that clinked down on the floor outside, and
+made a clutch at her hand and caught her by the wrist.
+She grasped the bar in the little window, or he would
+have drawn her hand in, dragged her by the arm up
+against the door, and broken it. He now held her wrist
+and with his strong hand strove to wrench her fingers
+from their clutch.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Unhasp the door!&rdquo; he howled at her.</p>
+
+<p>She did not answer other than with a cry of pain, as
+he worked with his hand at her wrist, and verily it
+seemed as though the fragile bones must snap under his
+drag.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Unhasp the door!&rdquo; he roared again.</p>
+
+<p>With his great fingers and thick nails he began to
+thrust at and ploughed her knuckles; he had her by the
+wrist with one hand, and he was striving to loosen her
+hold of the bar with the other.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Unhasp the door!&rdquo; he yelled a third time, &ldquo;or I&rsquo;ll
+break every bone in your fingers!&rdquo; and he brought his
+fist down on the side of the door to show how he would
+pound them by a blow. If he did not do this at once it
+was because he dreaded by too heavy a blow to strike
+the bar and wound himself while crushing her hand.</p>
+
+<p>She could not hold the iron stanchion for more than
+another instant&mdash;and then he would drag her arm in, as
+a lion in its cage when it had laid hold of the incautious
+visitor, tears him to itself through the bars.</p>
+
+<p>Then she brought the candle-flame up against his hand
+that grasped her wrist, and it played round it. He uttered
+a scream of pain, and let go for a moment. But
+that moment sufficed. She was free. The key was on
+the floor. She stooped to pick it up; but her fingers
+were as though paralyzed, she was forced to take it with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>194]</a></span>
+the left hand and leave the candle on the floor. Then,
+holding the key she ran up the steps, ran out into the
+yard, and heard her brother wailing, &ldquo;Ju! I want you!
+Where are you, Ju?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Guided by his cries she reached the door. The key
+she put into the lock, and with a little effort turned it.
+The door opened, she and Jamie were free.</p>
+
+<p>The door shut behind them. They were in the dark
+lane, under a pouring rain. But Judith thought nothing
+of the darkness, nothing of the rain. She threw her arms
+round her brother, put her wet cheek against his, and
+burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Jamie! O my Jamie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the deliverance of her brother was not complete;
+she must bring him back to Polzeath. She could allow
+herself but a moment for the relief of her heart, and then
+she caught him to her side, and pushed on with him
+along the lane till they entered the street. Here she
+stood for a moment in uncertainty. Was she bound to
+fulfil her engagement to Mr. Obadiah? She had obtained
+the key, but he had behaved to her with treachery.
+He had not intended the key to be other than a
+bait to draw her within his clutch, that he might torture
+her into opening the door of his cell. Nevertheless, she
+had the key, and Judith was too honorable to take advantage
+of him.</p>
+
+<p>With Jamie still clinging to her she went up the pair
+of steps to the front door, rang the night-bell, and
+knocked long and loud. Then, all at once her strength
+that had lasted gave way, and she sank on the doorsteps,
+without indeed losing consciousness, but losing
+in an instant all power of doing or thinking, of striving
+any more for Jamie or for herself.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>195]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A RESCUE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>A window overhead was thrown open, and a voice that
+Judith recognized as that of Mrs. Obadiah Scantlebray,
+called: &ldquo;Who is there?&mdash;what is wanted?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The girl could not answer. The power to speak was
+gone from her. It was as though all her faculties, exerted
+to the full, had at once given way. She could not
+rise from the steps on which she had sunk: the will to
+make the effort was gone. Her head was fallen against
+the jamb of the door and the knot of the kerchief was
+between her head and the wood, and hurt her, but even
+the will to lift her hands and shift the bandage one inch
+was not present.</p>
+
+<p>The mill-wheel revolves briskly, throwing the foaming
+water out of its buckets, with a lively rattle, then its
+movement slackens, it strains, the buckets fill and even
+spill, but the wheel seems to be reduced to statuariness.
+That stress point is but for a moment, then the weight of
+the water overbalances the strain, and whirr! round
+plunges the wheel, and the bright foaming water is
+whisked about, and the buckets disgorge their contents.</p>
+
+<p>It is the same with the wheel of human life. It has
+its periods of rapid and glad revolutions, and also its
+moments of supreme tension, when it is all but overstrung&mdash;when
+its movement is hardly perceptible. The
+strain put on Judith&rsquo;s faculties had been excessive, and
+now those faculties failed her, failed her absolutely.
+The prostration might not last long&mdash;it might last forever.
+It is so sometimes when there has been overexertion;
+thought stops, will ceases to act, sensation
+dies into numbness, the heart beats slow, slower, then
+perhaps stops finally.</p>
+
+<p>It was not quite come to that with Judith. She knew
+that she had rushed into danger again, the very danger
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>196]</a></span>
+from which she had just escaped, she knew it, but she
+was incapable of acting on the knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is below?&rdquo; was again called from an upper
+window.</p>
+
+<p>Judith, with open eyes, heard that the rain was still
+falling heavily, heard the shoot of water from the roof
+plash down into the runnel of the street, felt the heavy
+drops come down on her from the architrave over the
+door, and she saw something in the roadway: shadows
+stealing along the same as she had seen before, but passing
+in a reversed direction. These were again men and
+beasts, but their feet and hoofs were no longer inaudible,
+they trod in the puddles and splashed and squelched the
+water and mud about, at each step. The smugglers had
+delivered the supplies agreed on, at the houses of those
+who dealt with them, and were now returning, the asses
+no longer laden.</p>
+
+<p>And Judith heard the door behind her unbarred and
+unchained and unlocked. Then it was opened, and a ray
+of light was cast into the street, turning falling rain-drops
+into drops of liquid gold, and revealing, ghostly,
+a passing ass and its driver.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is there? <em>Is</em> anyone there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the blaze of light was turned on Judith, and her
+eyes shut with a spasm of pain.</p>
+
+<p>In the doorway stood Mrs. Scantlebray half-garmented,
+that is to say with a gown on, the folds of which fell
+in very straight lines from the waist to her feet, and
+with a night-cap on her head, and her curls in papers.
+She held a lamp in her hand, and this was now directed
+upon the girl, lying, or half-sitting in the doorway,
+her bandaged head leaning against the jamb, one hand
+in her lap, the fingers open, the other falling at her
+side, hanging down the steps, the fingers in the running
+current of the gutter, in which also was one shoeless
+foot.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why&mdash;goodness! mercy on us!&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs.
+Scantlebray, inconsiderately thrusting the lamp close
+into the girl&rsquo;s face. &ldquo;It can never be&mdash;yet&mdash;surely it
+is&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith!&rdquo; exclaimed a deep voice, the sound of which
+sent a sudden flutter through the girl&rsquo;s nerves and pulses.
+&ldquo;Judith!&rdquo; and from out the darkness and falling rain
+plunged a man in full mantle wrapped about him and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>197]</a></span>
+overhanging broad-brimmed hat. Without a word of excuse
+he snatched the light from Mrs. Scantlebray and
+raised it above Judith&rsquo;s head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Merciful powers!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;what is the meaning of
+this! What has happened? There is blood here&mdash;blood!
+Judith&mdash;speak. For heaven&rsquo;s sake, speak!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The light fell on his face, his glittering eyes&mdash;and she
+slightly turned her head and looked at him. She opened
+her mouth to speak, but could form no words, but the
+appeal in those dim eyes went to his heart, he thrust the
+lamp roughly back into Mrs. Scantlebray&rsquo;s hand, knelt
+on the steps, passed an arm under the girl, the other
+about her waist, lifted and carried her without a word
+inside the house. There was a leather-covered ottoman
+in the hall, and he laid her on that, hastily throwing off
+his cloak, folding it, and placing it as a pillow beneath
+her head.</p>
+
+<p>Then, on one knee at her side, he drew a flask from his
+breast pocket, and poured some drops of spirit down her
+throat. The strength of the brandy made her catch her
+breath, and brought a flash of red to her cheek. It had
+served its purpose, helped the wheel of life to turn beyond
+the stress point at which it threatened to stay
+wholly. She moved her head, and looked eagerly about
+her for Jamie. He was not there. She drew a long
+breath, a sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you better?&rdquo; he asked, stooping over her, and
+she could read the intensity of his anxiety in his face.</p>
+
+<p>She tried to smile a reply, but the muscles of her lips
+were too stiff for more than a flutter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Run!&rdquo; ordered Captain Coppinger, standing up,
+&ldquo;you woman, are you a fool? Where is your husband?
+He is a doctor, fetch him. The girl might die.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&mdash;Captain&mdash;he is engaged, I believe, taking in his
+stores.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fetch him! Leave the lamp here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Scantlebray groped about for a candle, and having
+found one, proceeded to light it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m really shocked to appear before you, Captain, in
+this state of undress.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fetch your husband!&rdquo; said Coppinger, impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>Then she withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>The draught of spirits had acted on Judith and revived
+her. Her breath came more evenly, her heart beat
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>198]</a></span>
+regularly, and the blood began to circulate again. As her
+bodily powers returned, her mind began to work once
+more, and again anxiously she looked about her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it you want?&rdquo; asked Captain Cruel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Jamie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He muttered a low oath. Always Jamie. She could
+think of no one but that silly boy.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly she recalled her position&mdash;in Scantlebray&rsquo;s
+house, and the wife was on the way to the cellars,
+would find him, release him&mdash;and though she knew that
+Coppinger would not suffer Obadiah to injure her, she
+feared, in her present weakness, a violent scene. She sat
+up, dropped her feet on the floor, and stretched both her
+hands to the smuggler.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, take me! take me from here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Judith,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;You must have the doctor
+to see you&mdash;after that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No! no! take me before he comes. He will kill me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger laughed. He would like to see the man
+who would dare to lay a finger on Judith while he stood
+by.</p>
+
+<p>Now they heard a noise from the wings of the house
+at the side that communicated with the dwelling by a
+door that Mrs. Scantlebray had left ajar. There were
+exclamations, oaths, a loud, angry voice, and the shrill
+tones of the woman mingled with the bass notes of her
+husband. The color that had risen to the girl&rsquo;s cheeks
+left them; she put her hands on Coppinger&rsquo;s breast and
+looking him entreatingly in the eyes, said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I pray you! I pray you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He snatched her up in his arms, drew her close to him,
+went to the door, cast it open with his foot, and bore her
+out into the rain. There stood his mare, Black Bess, with
+a lad holding her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith, can you ride?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He lifted her into the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Boy,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;lead on gently; I will stay her lest
+she fall.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then they moved away, and saw through the sheet of
+falling rain the lighted door, and Scantlebray in it, in his
+shirt sleeves shaking his fists, and his wife behind him,
+endeavoring to draw him back by the buckle and strap
+of his waistcoat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, where is Jamie? I wonder where Jamie is?&rdquo; said
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>199]</a></span>
+Judith, looking round her in the dark, but could see no
+sign of her brother.</p>
+
+<p>There were straggling houses for half a mile&mdash;a little
+gap of garden or paddock, then a cottage, then a cluster
+of trees, and an alehouse, then hedges and no more
+houses. A cooler wind was blowing, dispelling the close,
+warm atmosphere, and the rain fell less heavily. There
+was a faint light among the clouds like a watering of
+satin. It showed that the storm was passing away. The
+lightning flashes were, moreover, at longer intervals,
+fainter, and the thunder rumbled distantly. With the
+fresher air, some strength and life came back to Judith.
+The wheel though on the turn was not yet revolving
+rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger walked by the horse, he had his arm up,
+holding Judith, for he feared lest in her weakness she
+might fall, and indeed, by her weight upon his hand, he
+was aware that her power to sustain herself unassisted
+was not come. He looked up at her; he could hardly
+fail to do so, standing, striding so close to her, her wet
+garments brushing his face; but he could not see her, or
+saw her indistinctly. He had thrust her little foot into
+the leather of his stirrup, as the strap was too long for
+her to use, and he did not tarry to shorten it.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger was much puzzled to learn how Judith had
+come at such an hour to the door of Mrs. Obadiah Scantlebray,
+shoeless, and with wounded head, but he asked
+no questions. He was aware that she was not in a condition
+to answer them.</p>
+
+<p>He held her up with his right hand in the saddle, and
+with his left he held her foot in the leather. Were she
+to fall she might drag by the foot, and he must be on
+his guard against that. Pacing in the darkness, holding
+her, his heart beat, and his thoughts tossed and boiled
+within him. This girl so feeble, so childish, he was coming
+across incessantly, thrown in her way to help her,
+and he was bound to her by ties invisible, impalpable,
+and yet of such strength that he could not break through
+them and free himself.</p>
+
+<p>He was a man of indomitable will, of iron strength,
+staying up this girl, who had flickered out of unconsciousness
+and might slide back into it again at any moment,
+and yet he felt, he knew that he was powerless
+before her&mdash;that if she said to him, &ldquo;Lie down that I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>200]</a></span>
+may trample on you,&rdquo; he would throw himself in the foul
+road without a word to be trodden under by these shoeless
+feet. There was but one command she could lay on
+him that he would not perform, and that was &ldquo;Let me go
+by myself! Never come near me!&rdquo; That he could not
+obey. The rugged moon revolves about the earth.
+Could the moon fly away into space were the terrestrial
+orb to bid it cease to be a satellite? And if it did, whither
+would it go? Into far off space, into outer darkness and
+deathly cold, to split and shiver into fragments in the
+inconceivable frost in the abyss of blackness. And Judith
+threw a sort of light and heat over this fierce, undisciplined
+man, that trembled in his veins and bathed his
+heart, and was to him a spring of beauty, a summer of
+light. Could he leave her? To leave her would be to be
+lost to everything that had now begun to transform his
+existence. The thought came over him now, as he
+walked along in silence&mdash;that she might bid him let go,
+and he felt that he could not obey. He must hold her,
+he must hold her not <em>from</em> him on the saddle, not as
+merely staying her up, but to himself, to his heart, as his
+own, his own forever.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly an exclamation from Judith: &ldquo;Jamie!
+Jamie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Something was visible in the darkness, something
+whitish in the hedge. In another moment it came bounding
+up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ju! oh, Ju! I ran away!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You did well,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Now I am happy. You
+are saved.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger looked impatiently round and saw by the
+feeble light that the boy had come close to him, and that
+he was wrapped up in a blanket.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has nothing on him,&rdquo; said Judith. &ldquo;Oh, poor
+Jamie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had revived; she was almost herself again. She
+held herself more firmly in the saddle and did not lean
+so heavily on Coppinger&rsquo;s hand.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger was vexed at the appearance of the boy,
+Jamie; he would fain have paced along in silence by the
+side of Judith. If she could not speak it mattered not
+so long as he held her. But that this fool should spring
+out of the darkness and join company with him and her,
+and at once awake her interest and loosen her tongue,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>201]</a></span>
+irritated him. But as she was able to speak he would
+address her, and not allow her to talk over his head with
+Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How have you been hurt?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Why have
+you tied that bandage about your head?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been cut by a stone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How came that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A drunken man threw it at me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was his name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is well for him.&rdquo; Then, after a short pause, he
+asked further, &ldquo;And your unshod feet?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! I gave my shoes to Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger turned sharply round on the boy. &ldquo;Take
+off those shoes instantly and give them back to your
+sister.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;indeed, no,&rdquo; said Judith. &ldquo;He is running and
+will cut his poor feet&mdash;and I, through your kindness, am
+riding.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger did not insist. He asked: &ldquo;But how comes
+the boy to be without clothes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because I rescued him, as he was, from the Asylum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&mdash;! Is that why you are out at night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I knew he had been taken by the two Mr.
+Scantlebrays at Wadebridge, and I could not rest. I felt
+sure he was miserable, and was dying for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So&mdash;in the night you went to him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But how did you get him his freedom?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I found him locked in the black-hole, in the cellar.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And did Scantlebray look on passively while you
+released him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no, I let Jamie out, and locked him in, in his
+place.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&mdash;Scantlebray in the black-hole!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Coppinger laughed, laughed long and boisterously.
+His hand that held Judith&rsquo;s foot and the stirrup
+leather shook with his laughter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By Heaven!&mdash;You are wonderful, very wonderful.
+Any one who opposes you is ill-treated, knocked down
+and broken, or locked into a black hole in the dead of
+night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith, in spite of her exhaustion, was obliged to smile.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>202]</a></span>
+&ldquo;You see, I must do what I can for Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Always Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Captain Coppinger, always Jamie. He is helpless
+and must be thought for. I am mother, nurse, sister
+to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;His providence,&rdquo; sneered Coppinger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The means under Providence of preserving him,&rdquo; said
+Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And me&mdash;would you do aught for me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did I not come down the cliffs for you?&rdquo; asked the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Heaven forgive me that I forgot that for one moment,&rdquo;
+he answered, with vehemence. &ldquo;Happy&mdash;happy&mdash;happiest
+of any in this vile world is the man for whom
+you will think, and scheme and care and dare&mdash;as you do
+for Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is none such,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;I know that,&rdquo; he answered, gloomily, and strode
+forward with his head down.</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes had elapsed in silence, and Polzeath was
+approached. Then suddenly Coppinger let go his hold
+of Judith, caught the rein of Black Bess, and arrested
+her. Standing beside Judith, he said, in a peevish, low
+tone:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I touched your hand, and said I was subject to a
+queen.&rdquo; He bent, took her foot and kissed it. &ldquo;You
+repulsed me as subject; you are my mistress!&mdash;accept
+me as your slave.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>203]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">AN EXAMINATION.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Some days had elapsed. Judith had not suffered from
+her second night expedition as she had from the first,
+but the intellectual abilities of Jamie had deteriorated.
+The fright he had undergone had shaken his nerves, and
+had made him more restless, timid, and helpless than
+heretofore, exacting more of Judith&rsquo;s attention and more
+trying her endurance. But she trusted these ill effects
+would pass away in time. From his rambling talk she
+had been able to gather some particulars, which to a degree
+modified her opinion relative to the behavior of Mr.
+Obadiah Scantlebray. It appeared from the boy&rsquo;s own
+account that he had been very troublesome. After he
+had been taken into the wing of the establishment that
+was occupied by the imbeciles, his alarm and bewilderment
+had grown. He had begun to cry and to clamor
+for his release, or for the presence of his sister. As
+night came on, paroxysms of impotent rage had alternated
+with fits of whining. The appearance of his companions
+in confinement, some of them complete idiots,
+with half-human gestures and faces, had enhanced his
+terrors. He would eat no supper, and when put to bed
+in the common dormitory had thrown off his clothes, torn
+his sheets, and refused to lie down; had sat up and
+screamed at the top of his voice. Nothing that could be
+done, no representations would pacify him. He prevented
+his fellow inmates of the asylum from sleeping,
+and he made it not at all improbable that his cries
+would be overheard by passers-by in the street, or those
+occupying neighboring houses, and thus give rise to
+unpleasant surmises, and perhaps inquiry. Finally,
+Scantlebray had removed the boy to the place of punishment,
+the Black Hole, a compartment of the cellars,
+there to keep him till his lungs were exhausted, or his
+reason gained the upper hand, and Judith supposed, with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>204]</a></span>
+some justice, that Scantlebray had done this only, or
+chiefly, because he himself would be up, and about the
+cellars, engaged in housing his supplies of brandy, and
+that he had no intention of locking the unhappy boy up
+for the entire night, in solitude, in his cellars. He had
+not left him in complete darkness, for a candle had been
+placed on the ground outside the Black Hole door.</p>
+
+<p>As Judith saw the matter now, it seemed to her that
+though Scantlebray had acted with harshness and lack
+of judgment there was some palliation for his conduct.
+That Jamie could be most exasperating, she knew full
+well by experience. When he went into one of his
+fits of temper and crying, it took many hours and much
+patience to pacify him. She had spent long time and
+exhausted her efforts to bring him to a subdued frame
+of mind on the most irrational and trifling occasions,
+when he had been angered. Nothing answered with
+him then save infinite forbearance and exuberant love.
+On this occasion there was good excuse for Jamie&rsquo;s fit,
+he had been frightened, and frightened out of his few
+wits. As Judith said to herself&mdash;had she been treated
+in the same manner, spirited off, without preparation,
+to a strange house, confined among afflicted beings, deprived
+of every familiar companion&mdash;she would have
+been filled with terror, and reasonably so. She would
+not have exhibited it, however, in the same manner as
+Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>Scantlebray had not acted with gentleness, but he had
+not, on the other hand, exhibited wanton cruelty. That
+he was a man of coarse nature, likely on provocation to
+break through the superficial veneer of amiability, she
+concluded from her own experience, and she did not
+doubt that those of the unfortunate inmates of the
+asylum who overstrained his forbearance met with very
+rough handling. But that he took a malignant pleasure
+in harassing and torturing them, that she did not believe.</p>
+
+<p>On the day following the escape from the asylum, Judith
+sent Mr. Menaida to Wadebridge with the blanket
+that had been carried off round the shoulders of her
+brother, and with a request to have Jamie&rsquo;s clothes surrendered.
+Uncle Zachie returned with the garments,
+they were not refused him, and Judith and her brother
+settled down into the routine of employment and amusement
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>205]</a></span>
+as before. The lad assisted Mr. Menaida with his
+bird skins, talking a little more childishly than before,
+and sticking less assiduously to his task; and Judith
+did her needlework and occasionally played on the
+piano the pieces of music at which Uncle Zachie had
+hammered ineffectually for many years, and she played
+them to the old man&rsquo;s satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>At last the girl ventured to induce Jamie to recommence
+his lessons. He resisted at first, and when she did, on a
+rainy day, persuade him to set to his school tasks, she
+was careful not to hold him to them for more than a few
+minutes, and to select those lessons which made him
+least impatient.</p>
+
+<p>There was a &ldquo;Goldsmith&rsquo;s Geography,&rdquo; illustrated with
+copper-plates of Indians attacking Captain Cook, the
+geysers, Esquimaux fishing, etc., that always amused the
+boy. Accordingly, more geography was done during
+these first days of resumption of work than history,
+arithmetic, or reading. Latin had not yet been attempted,
+as that was Jamie&rsquo;s particular aversion. However,
+the Eton Latin grammar was produced, and placed
+on the table, to familiarize his mind with the idea that
+it had to be tackled some day.</p>
+
+<p>Judith had spread the table with lesson-books, ink,
+slate, and writing-copies, one morning, when she was
+surprised at the entry of four gentlemen, two of whom
+she recognized immediately as the Brothers Scantlebray.
+The other two she did not know. One was thin faced,
+with red hair, a high forehead extending to the crown,
+with the hair drawn over it, and well pomatumed, to
+keep it in place, and conceal the baldness; the other a
+short man, in knee-breeches and tan-boots, with a red
+face, and with breath that perfumed the whole room
+with spirits.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray, senior, came up with both hands extended.
+&ldquo;This is splendid! How are you? Never
+more charmed in my life, and ready to impart knowledge,
+as the sun diffuses light. Obadiah, old man, look
+at your pupil&mdash;better already for having passed through
+your hands. I can see it at a glance; there&rsquo;s a brightness,
+a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je ne sais quoi</i> about him that was not there before.
+Old man, I congratulate you. You have a gift&mdash;shake
+hands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The gentlemen seated themselves without invitation.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>206]</a></span>
+Surprise and alarm made Judith forget her usual courtesy.
+She feared lest the sight of his gaolers might excite
+Jamie. But it was not so. Whether, in his confused
+mind, he did not associate Mr. Obadiah with his troubles
+on that night of distress, or whether his attention was
+distracted by the sight of so many, was doubtful, but
+Jamie did not seem to be disconcerted; rather, on the
+contrary, he was glad of some excuse for escape from
+lessons.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are come,&rdquo; said the red-headed man, &ldquo;at Miss
+Trevisa&rsquo;s desire&mdash;but really, Mr. Scantlebray, for shame
+of you. Where are your manners? Introduce me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Vokins,&rdquo; said Scantlebray, &ldquo;and the accomplished
+and charming Miss Judith Trevisa, orphing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now, dear young lady,&rdquo; said the red-headed
+man, &ldquo;now, positively, it is my turn&mdash;my friend, Mr.
+Jukes. Jukes, man! Miss Judith Trevisa.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Vokins coughed into his thin white hand,
+and said, &ldquo;We are come, naturally&mdash;and I am sure you
+wish what Miss Trevisa wishes&mdash;to just look at your
+brother, and give our opinion on his health.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, he is quite well,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! you think so, naturally, but we would decide
+for ourselves, dearest young lady, though&mdash;not for the
+world would we willingly differ from you. But, you
+know, there are questions on which varieties of opinions
+are allowable, and yet do not disturb the most heartfelt
+friendship. It is so, is it not, Jukes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The rubicund man in knee-breeches nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I begin, Jukes? Why, my fine little man!
+What an array of books! What scholarship! And at
+your age, too&mdash;astounding! What age did you say you
+were?&rdquo; This to Jamie in an insinuating tone. Jamie
+stared, looked appealingly at Judith, and said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are the same age, we are twins,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! it is not the right thing to appear anxious to
+know a lady&rsquo;s age. We will put it another way, eh,
+Jukes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The red-faced man leaned his hands on his stick, his
+chin on his hands, and winked, as in that position he
+could not nod.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, my fine little man! When is your birthday?
+When you have your cake&mdash;raisin-cake, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie looked questioningly at his sister.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>207]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Ah! Come, not the day of the month&mdash;but the
+month, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie could not answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come now,&rdquo; said the red-headed levy man, stretching
+his legs before him, legs vested in white trousers,
+strapped down tight. &ldquo;Come now, my splendid specimen
+of humanity! In which quarter of the year? Between
+sickle and scythe, eh?&rdquo; He waited, and receiving
+no answer, pulled out a pocket-book and made a note,
+after having first wetted the end of his pencil. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t
+know when he was born. What do you say to that,
+Jukes? Will you take your turn?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The man with an inflamed face was gradually becoming
+purple, as he leaned forward on his stick, and said,
+&ldquo;Humph! a Latin grammar. Propria qu&aelig; maribus. I
+remember it, but it was a long time ago I learned it.
+Now, whipper-snapper! How do you get on? Propria
+qu&aelig; maribus&mdash;Go on.&rdquo; He waited. Jamie looked at
+him in astonishment. &ldquo;Come! Tribu&mdash;&rdquo; again he
+waited. &ldquo;Come! <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Tribuntur mascula dicas.</i> Go on.&rdquo;
+Again a pause. Then with an impatient growl. &ldquo;<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ut
+sunt divorum</span>, Mars, Bacchus, Apollo. This will never
+do. Go on with the Scaramouch, Vokins. I&rsquo;ll make my
+annotations.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s too hard on my little chap, ain&rsquo;t he?&rdquo; asked
+the thin man in ducks. &ldquo;We won&rsquo;t be done. We are
+not old enough&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is but eighteen,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is but eighteen,&rdquo; repeated the red-headed man.
+&ldquo;Of course he has not got so far as that, but musa,
+mus&aelig;.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie turned sulky.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not musa, mus&aelig;&mdash;and eighteen years! Jukes, this
+is serious, Jukes; eh, Jukes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now look here, you fellows,&rdquo; said Scantlebray, senior.
+&ldquo;You are too exacting. It&rsquo;s holiday time, ain&rsquo;t it, Orphing?
+We won&rsquo;t be put upon, not we. We&rsquo;ll sport,
+and frolic, and be joyful. Look here, Scanty, old man,
+take the slate and draw a pictur&rsquo; to my describing.
+Now then, Jamie, look at him and hearken to me. He&rsquo;s
+the funniest old man that ever was, and he&rsquo;ll surprise
+you. Are you ready, Scanty?&rdquo; Mr. Obadiah drew the
+slate before him, and signed with the pencil to Jamie to
+observe him. The boy was quite ready to see him draw.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>208]</a></span>
+&ldquo;There was once upon a time,&rdquo; began Mr. Scantlebray,
+senior, &ldquo;a man that lived in a round tower. Look at
+him, draw it, there you are. That is the tower. Go on.
+And in the tower was a round winder. Do you see the
+winder, Orphing? This man every morning put his
+hand out of the winder to ascertain which way the wind
+blew. He put it in thus, and drew it out thus. No!
+don&rsquo;t look at me, look at the slate and then you&rsquo;ll see it
+all. Now this man had a large pond, preserved full of
+fish.&rdquo; Scratch, scratch went the pencil on the slate.
+&ldquo;Them&rsquo;s the fish,&rdquo; said Scantlebray, senior. &ldquo;Now below
+the situation of that pond, in two huts, lived a pair
+of thieves. You see them pokey things my brother has
+drawn? Them&rsquo;s the &rsquo;uts. When night set in, these
+wicked thieves came walking up to the pond, see my
+brother drawing their respective courses! And on reaching
+the pond, they opened the sluice, and whish! whish!
+out poured the water.&rdquo; Scratch, scratch, squeak, squeak,
+went the pencil on the slate. &ldquo;There now! the naughty
+robbers went after fish, and got a goose! Look! a
+goo-oose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s the goose?&rdquo; asked Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where? Before your eyes&mdash;under your nose. That
+brilliant brother of mine has drawn one. Hold the slate
+up, Scanty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s not a goose,&rdquo; said Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a goose! You don&rsquo;t know what geese are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I do,&rdquo; retorted the boy, resentfully, &ldquo;I know the
+wild goose and the tame one&mdash;which do you call that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, wild goose, of course.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not one. A goose hasn&rsquo;t a tail like that, nor such
+legs,&rdquo; said Jamie, contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray, senior, looked at Messrs. Vokins and
+Jukes and shook his head. &ldquo;A bad case. Don&rsquo;t know a
+goose when he sees it&mdash;and he is eighteen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Both Vokins and Jukes made an entry in their pocket-books.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now Jukes,&rdquo; said Vokins, &ldquo;will you take a turn, or
+shall I?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you, Vokins,&rdquo; answered Jukes, &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t recovered
+<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">propria qu&aelig; maribus</i>, yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, my interesting young friend. Suppose
+now we change the subject and try arithmetic.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want any arithmetic,&rdquo; said Jamie, sulkily.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>209]</a></span>
+&ldquo;No&mdash;come&mdash;now we won&rsquo;t call it by that name; suppose
+some one were to give you a shilling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie looked up interested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And suppose he were to say. There&mdash;go and buy
+sweeties with this shilling. Tartlets at three for two
+pence, and barley-sugar at three farthings a stick,
+and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want my shilling back,&rdquo; said Jamie, looking
+straight into the face of Mr. Scantlebray, senior.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And that there were burnt almonds at two pence an
+ounce.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want my shilling,&rdquo; exclaimed the boy, angrily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your shilling, puff! puff!&rdquo; said the red-headed man.
+&ldquo;This is ideal, an ideal shilling, and ideal jam-tarts,
+almond rock, burnt almonds or what you like.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me back my shilling. I won it fair,&rdquo; persisted
+Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>Then Judith, distressed, interfered. &ldquo;Jamie, dear!
+what do you mean? You have no shilling owing to
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have! I have!&rdquo; screamed the boy. &ldquo;I won it fair
+of that man there, because I made a rabbit, and he took
+it from me again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hallucinations,&rdquo; said Jukes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quite so,&rdquo; said Vokins.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me my shilling. It is a cheat!&rdquo; cried Jamie,
+now suddenly roused into one of his fits of passion.</p>
+
+<p>Judith caught him by the arm, and endeavored to pacify
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let go, Ju! I will have my shilling. That man took
+it away. He is a cheat, a thief. Give me my shilling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid he is excitable,&rdquo; said Vokins.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Like all irrational beings,&rdquo; answered Jukes. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+make a note. Rising out of hallucinations.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will have my shilling,&rdquo; persisted Jamie. &ldquo;Give me
+my shilling or I&rsquo;ll throw the ink at you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He caught up the ink-pot, and before Judith had time
+to interfere had flung it across the table, intending to
+hit Mr. Scantlebray, senior, but not hurt him, and the
+black fluid was scattered over Mr. Vokins&rsquo;s white trousers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless my life!&rdquo; exclaimed this gentleman, springing
+to his feet, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe away
+the ink, and only smearing it the more over his &ldquo;ducks&rdquo;
+and discoloring as well, his kerchief. &ldquo;Bless my
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>210]</a></span>
+life&mdash;Jukes! a dangerous lunatic. Note at once. Clearly
+comes within the act. Clearly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes all had left, and Judith was endeavoring
+to pacify her irritated brother. His fingers were
+blackened, and finally she persuaded him to go up-stairs
+and wash his hands clear of the ink.</p>
+
+<p>Then she ran into the adjoining room to Mr. Menaida.
+&ldquo;Oh, dear Mr. Menaida!&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;what does this
+mean? Why have they been here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zachie looked grave and discomposed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Those were doctors, and they
+have been here, sent by your aunt, to examine into the
+condition of Jamie&rsquo;s intellect, and to report on what they
+have observed. There was a little going beyond the law,
+perhaps, at first. That is why they took it so easily
+when you carried Jamie off. They knew you were with
+an old lawyer; they knew that you or I could sue for a
+writ of Habeas Corpus.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But do you really think&mdash;that Aunt Dionysia is
+going to have Jamie sent back to that man at Wadebridge?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am certain of it. That is why they came here to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can I not prevent it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not think so. If you go to law&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But if they once get him, they will make an idiot or
+a madman of him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you must see your aunt and persuade her not to
+send him there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>211]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIX.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">ON A PEACOCK&rsquo;S FEATHER.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>As Mr. Menaida spoke, Miss Dionysia Trevisa entered,
+stiff, hard, and when her eyes fell on Judith, they contracted
+with an expression of antipathy. In the eyes
+alone was this observable, for her face was immovable.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Auntie!&rdquo; exclaimed Judith, drawing her into the
+sitting-room, and pressing her to take the arm chair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Auntie! I have so longed to see you&mdash;there have
+been some dreadful men here&mdash;doctors I think&mdash;and
+they have been teasing Jamie, till they had worked him
+into one of his temper fits.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I sent them here, and for good reasons. Jamie is to
+go back to Wadebridge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;indeed no! auntie! do not say that. You would
+not say it if you knew all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know quite enough. More than is pleasing to me.
+I have heard of your outrageous and unbecoming conduct.
+Hoity! toity! To think that a Trevisa&mdash;but there
+you are one only in name&mdash;should go out at night, about
+the streets and lanes, like a common stray. Bless me!
+you might have knocked me down with a touch, when I
+was told of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did nothing outrageous and unbecoming, aunt.
+You may be sure of that. I am quite aware that I am a
+Trevisa, and a gentlewoman, and something higher than
+that, aunt&mdash;a Christian. My father never let me forget
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your conduct was&mdash;well I will give it no expletive.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt, I did what was right. I was sure that Jamie
+was unhappy and wanted me. I cannot tell you how I
+knew it, but I was certain of it, and I had no peace till I
+went; and, as I found the garden door open, I went in,
+and as I went in I found Jamie locked up in the cellars,
+and I freed him. Had you found him there, you would
+have done the same.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>212]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I have heard all about it. I want no repetition of a
+very scandalous story. Against my will I am burdened
+with an intolerable obligation, to look after an idiot
+nephew and a niece that is a self-willed and perverse
+Miss.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie is no idiot,&rdquo; answered Judith, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie is what those pronounce him to be, who by
+their age, their profession, and their inquiries are calculated
+to judge better than an ignorant girl, not out of
+her teens.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Auntie I believe you have been misinformed. Listen
+to me, and I will tell you what happened. As for those
+men&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Those men were doctors. Perhaps they were misinformed
+when they went through the College of Surgeons,
+were misinformed by all the medical books they
+have read, were misdirected by all the study of the mental
+and bodily maladies of men they have made, in their
+professional course.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish, dear Aunt Dionysia, you would take Jamie
+to be with you a few weeks, talk to him, play with him,
+go walks with him, and you will never say that he is an
+idiot. He needs careful management, and also a little
+application&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Enough of that theme,&rdquo; interrupted Miss Trevisa,
+&ldquo;I have not come here to be drawn into an argument, or
+to listen to your ideas of the condition of that unhappy,
+troublesome, that provoking boy. I wish to heaven I
+had not the responsibility for him, that has been thrust
+on me, but as I have to exercise it, and there is no one to
+relieve me of it, I must do my best, though it is a great
+expense to me. Seventy pounds is not seventy shillings,
+nor is it seventy pence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt, he is not to go back to the asylum. He <em>must
+not</em> go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hoity-toity! <em>must not</em> indeed. You, a minx of eighteen
+to dictate to me! Must not, indeed! You seem to
+think that you, and not I, are Jamie&rsquo;s guardian.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa entrusted him to me with his last words.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know nothing about last words. In his will I am
+constituted his guardian and yours, and as such I shall
+act as my convenience&mdash;conscience I mean, dictates.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, Aunt! Jamie is not to go back to Wadebridge.
+Aunt! I entreat you! I know what that place is. I have
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>213]</a></span>
+been inside it, you have not. And just think of Jamie
+on the very first night being locked up there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He richly deserved it, I will be bound.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Aunt! How could he? How could he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of that Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray was the best judge.
+Why he had to be punished you do not know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed I do. He cried because the place was strange,
+and he was among strange faces. Aunt&mdash;if you were
+whipped off to Timbuctoo, and suddenly found yourself
+among savages, and in a rush apron, as the squaw of a
+black chief, or whatever they call their wives in Timbuctoo
+land, would you not scream?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith,&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa, bridling up. &ldquo;You forget
+yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Aunt! I am only pleading for Jamie, trying to
+make you feel for him, when he was locked up in an asylum.
+How would you like it, Aunt, if you were snatched
+away to Barthelmy fair, and suddenly found yourself
+among tight-rope dancers, and Jack Puddings?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith, I insist on you holding your tongue. I object
+to being associated even in fancy, with such creatures.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well&mdash;but Jamie was associated, not in fancy, but in
+horrible reality, with idiots.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie goes to Scantlebray&rsquo;s Asylum to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Auntie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is already in the hands of the brothers Scantlebray.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Auntie&mdash;no&mdash;no!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is no pleasure to me to have to find the money,
+you may well believe. Seventy pounds is not, as I said,
+seventy pence, it is not seventy farthings. But duty is
+duty, and however painful and unpleasant and costly, it
+must be performed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then from the adjoining room, &ldquo;the shop,&rdquo; came Mr. Menaida.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg pardon for an interruption and for interference,&rdquo;
+said he. &ldquo;I happen to have overheard what has
+passed, as I was engaged in the next room, and I believe
+that I can make a proposal which will perhaps be acceptable
+to you, Miss Trevisa, and grateful to Miss Judith.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am ready to listen to you,&rdquo; said Aunt Dionysia,
+haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is this,&rdquo; said Uncle Zachie. &ldquo;I understand that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>214]</a></span>
+pecuniary matters concerning Jamie are a little irksome.
+Now the boy, if he puts his mind to it, can be useful to
+me. He has a remarkable aptitude for taxidermy. I
+have more orders on my hands than I can attend to. I
+am a gentleman, not a tradesman, and I object to be oppressed&mdash;flattened
+out&mdash;with the orders piled on top of
+me. But if the boy will help, he can earn sufficient to
+pay for his living here with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Mr. Menaida, dear Mr. Menaida! thank you so
+much,&rdquo; exclaimed Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps you will allow me to speak,&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa,
+with asperity. &ldquo;I am guardian, and not you, whatever
+you may think from certain vague expressions
+breathed casually from my poor brother&rsquo;s lips, and to
+which you have attached an importance he never gave to
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt, I assure you, my dear papa&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That question is closed. We will not reopen it. I
+am a Trevisa. I can&rsquo;t for a moment imagine where you
+got those ideas. Not from your father&rsquo;s family, I am
+sure. Tight-rope dancers and Timbuctoos, indeed!&rdquo;
+Then she turned to Mr. Menaida, and said, in her hard,
+constrained voice, as though she were exercising great
+moral control to prevent herself from snapping at him
+with her teeth. &ldquo;Your proposal is kind and well intentioned,
+but I cannot accept it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Aunt! why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That you shall hear. I must beg you not to interrupt
+me. You are so familiar with the manners of Timbuctoo
+and of Barthelmy Fair, that you forget those
+pertaining to England and polished society.&rdquo; Then,
+turning to Mr. Menaida, she said: &ldquo;I thank you for
+your well-intentioned proposal, which, however, it is not
+possible for me to close with. I must consider the boy&rsquo;s
+ulterior advantage, not the immediate relief to my
+sorely-taxed purse. I have thought proper to place
+Jamie with a person, a gentleman of experience, and
+highly qualified to deal with those mentally afflicted.
+However much I may value you, Mr. Menaida, you must
+excuse me for saying that firmness is not a quality you
+have cultivated with assiduity. Judith, my niece, has
+almost ruined the boy by humoring him. You cannot
+stiffen a jelly by setting it in the sun, or in a chair before
+the fire, and that is what my niece has been doing.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>215]</a></span>
+The boy must be isinglassed into solidity by those who
+know how to treat him. Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray is
+the man&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To manufacture idiots, madam, out of simple innocents,
+it is worth his while at seventy pounds a year,&rdquo;
+said Uncle Zachie, petulantly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa looked at him stonily, and said: &ldquo;Sir!
+I suppose you know best. But it strikes me that such a
+statement, relative to Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray, is actionable.
+But you know best, being a solicitor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida winced and drew back.</p>
+
+<p>Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, trembling with
+anxiety and some anger. She thought that her aunt
+was acting in a heartless manner toward Jamie, that
+there was no good reason for refusing the generous offer
+of Uncle Zachie. In her agitation, unable to keep her
+fingers at rest, the girl played with the little chimney
+ornaments. She must occupy her nervous, twitching
+hands about something; tears of distressed mortification
+were swelling in her heart, and a fire was burning in two
+flames in her cheeks. What could she do to save Jamie?
+What would become of the boy at the asylum? It
+seemed to her that he would be driven out of his few
+wits, by terror and ill-treatment, and distress at leaving
+her and losing his liberty to ramble about the cliffs
+where he liked. In a vase on the chimney-piece was a
+bunch of peacock&rsquo;s feathers, and in her agitation, not
+thinking what she was about, desirous only of having
+something to pick at and play with in her hands, to disguise
+the trembling of the fingers, she took out one of the
+plumes and trifled with it, waving it and letting the
+light undulate over its wondrous surface of gold and
+green and blue.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As long as I have responsibility for the urchin&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+said Miss Dionysia.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Urchin!&rdquo; muttered Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As long as I have the charge I shall do my duty according
+to my lights, though they may not be those of a
+rush-aproned squaw in Timbuctoo, nor of a Jack Pudding
+balancing a feather on his nose.&rdquo; There was here
+a spiteful glance at Judith. &ldquo;When my niece has a
+home of her own&mdash;is settled into a position of security
+and comfort&mdash;then I wash my hands of the responsibility;
+she may do what she likes then&mdash;bring her brother
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>216]</a></span>
+to live with her if she chooses and her husband consents&mdash;that
+will be naught to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And in the mean time,&rdquo; said Judith, holding the
+peacock&rsquo;s feather very still before her, &ldquo;in the mean
+time Jamie&rsquo;s mind is withered and stunted&mdash;his whole
+life is spoiled. Now&mdash;now alone can he be given a turn
+aright and toward growth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That entirely depends on you,&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa,
+coldly. &ldquo;You know best what opportunities have offered&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt, what do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wait,&rdquo; said Uncle Zachie, rubbing his hands. &ldquo;My
+boy Oliver is coming home. He has written his situation
+is a good one now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa turned on him with a face of marble. &ldquo;I
+entirely fail to see what your son Oliver has to do with
+the matter, more than the man in the moon. May I
+trouble you, as you so deeply interest yourself in our
+concerns, to step outside to Messrs. Scantlebray and that
+boy, and ask them to bring him in here. I have told
+them what the circumstances are, and they are prepared.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida left the room, not altogether unwilling
+to escape.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Aunt Dionysia, &ldquo;I am relieved to find
+that for a minute, we are by ourselves, not subjected to
+the prying and eavesdropping of the impertinent and
+meddlesome. Mr. Menaida is a man who never did good
+to himself or to anyone else in his life, though a man
+with the best intentions under the sun. Now, Judith, I
+am a plain woman&mdash;that is to say&mdash;not plain, but
+straightforward&mdash;and I like to have everything above
+board. The case stands thus. I, in my capacity as
+guardian to that boy, am resolved to consign him immediately
+to the asylum, and to retain him there as long
+as my authority lasts, though it will cost me a pretty
+sum. You do not desire that he should go there. Well
+and good. There is but one way, but that is effectual,
+by means of which you can free Jamie from restraint.
+Let me tell you he is now in the hands of Mr. Obadiah,
+and gagged that he may not rouse the neighborhood
+with his screams.&rdquo; Miss Trevisa fixed her hard eyes on
+Judith. &ldquo;As soon as you take the responsibility off me,
+and on to yourself, you do with the boy what you like.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>217]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I will relieve you at once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are not in a condition to do so. As soon as I
+am satisfied that your future is secure, that you will have
+a house to call your own, and a certainty of subsistence
+for you both&mdash;then I will lay down my charge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you mean&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean that you must first accept Captain Coppinger,
+who has been good enough to find you not intolerable.
+He is&mdash;in this one particular&mdash;unreasonable, however,
+he is what he is, in this matter. He makes you the offer,
+gives you the chance. Take it, and you provide Jamie
+and yourself with a home, he has his freedom, and you
+can manage or mismanage him as you list. Refuse the
+chance and Jamie is lodged in Mr. Scantlebray&rsquo;s establishment
+within an hour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot decide this on the spur of the moment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well. You can let Jamie go provisionally to the
+asylum&mdash;and stay there till you have made up your mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;no&mdash;no&mdash;Aunt! Never, never!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As you will.&rdquo; Miss Trevisa shrugged her shoulders,
+and cast a glance at her niece like a dagger-stab.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Auntie&mdash;I am but a child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That may be. But there are times when even children
+must decide momentous questions. A boy as a
+child decides on his profession, a girl&mdash;may be&mdash;on her
+marriage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, dear Auntie! Do leave Jamie here for, say a fortnight,
+and in a fortnight from to-day you shall have my
+answer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered Miss Trevisa, &ldquo;I also must decide as
+to my future, for your decision affects not Jamie only but
+me also.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith had listened in great self-restraint, holding the
+feather before her. She held it between thumb and forefinger
+of both hands, not concerning herself about it,
+and yet with her eyes watching the undulations from the
+end of the quill to the deep blue eye set in a halo of
+gold at the further end, and the feather undulated with
+every rise and fall of her bosom.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Surely, Auntie! You cannot wish me to marry Cruel
+Coppinger?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have no wishes one way or the other. Please yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, Auntie&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>218]</a></span>
+&ldquo;You profess to be ready to do all you can for Jamie
+and yet hesitate about relieving me of an irksome charge,
+and Jamie of what you consider barbarous treatment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You cannot be serious&mdash;<em>I</em> to marry Captain Cruel!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a serious offer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But papa!&mdash;what would he say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never was in a position to tell his thoughts and
+guess what his words would be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, Auntie&mdash;he is such a bad man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know a great deal more about him than I do,
+of course.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;he is a smuggler, I do know that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well&mdash;and what of that. There is no crime in that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not an honest profession. They say, too, that
+he is a wrecker.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They say!&mdash;who say? What do you know?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing, but I am not likely to trust my future to a
+man of whom such tales are told. Auntie! Would you,
+supposing that you were&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will have none of your suppositions, I never did
+wear a rush apron, nor act as Jack Pudding.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot&mdash;Captain Cruel of all men.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is he so hateful to you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hateful&mdash;no; but I cannot like him. He has been
+kind, but&mdash;somehow I can&rsquo;t think of him as&mdash;as&mdash;as a
+man of our class and thoughts and ways, as one worthy
+of my own, own papa. No&mdash;it is impossible, I am still
+a child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She took the end of the peacock&rsquo;s feather, the splendid
+eye lustrous with metallic beauty, and bowed the plume
+without breaking it, and, unconscious of what she was
+doing, stroked her lips with it. What a fragile fine
+quill that was on which hung so much beauty? and how
+worthless the feather would be when that quill was
+broken. And so with her&mdash;her fine, elastic, strong spirit,
+that when bowed sprang to its uprightness the moment
+the pressure was withdrawn; that on which all her charm,
+her beauty hung.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger has, surely, never asked you to
+put this alternative to me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;I do it myself. As you are a child, you are unfit
+to take charge of your brother. When you are engaged
+to be married you are a woman; I shift my load
+on you then.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>219]</a></span>
+&ldquo;And you wish it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I repeat I have no wishes in the matter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me time to consider.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. It must be decided now&mdash;that is to say if you
+do not wish Jamie to be taken away. Don&rsquo;t fancy I want
+to persuade you; but I want to be satisfied about my
+own future. I shall not remain in Pentyre with you. As
+you enter by the front door, I leave by the back.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where will you go?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is my affair.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then in at the door came the two Scantlebrays and
+Jamie between them, gagged and with his hands bound
+behind his back. He had run out, directly his examination
+was over, and had been secured, almost without
+resistance, so taken by surprise was he, and reduced to a
+condition of helplessness.</p>
+
+<p>Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, with every
+tinge of color gone out of her cheeks. Jamie&rsquo;s frightened
+eyes met hers, and he made a slight struggle to
+speak, and to escape to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have a close conveyance ready for your patient?&rdquo;
+asked Aunt Dionysia of the brothers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, a very snug little box on wheels. Scanty
+and I will sit with our young man, to prevent his feeling
+dull, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You understand, gentlemen, what I told you, that in
+the deciding whether the boy is to go with you or not, I
+am not the only one to be considered. If I have my
+will, go he shall, as I am convinced that your establishment
+is the very place for him; but my niece, Miss Judith,
+has at her option the chance of taking the responsibility
+for the boy off my shoulders, and if she chooses
+to do that, why then, I fear she will continue to spoil
+him, as she has done heretofore.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It has cost us time and money,&rdquo; said Scantlebray,
+senior.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you shall be paid, whichever way is decided,&rdquo; said
+Miss Trevisa. &ldquo;Every thing now rests with my niece.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith seemed as one petrified. One hand was on
+her bosom, staying her heart, the other held the peacock&rsquo;s
+feather before her, horizontally. Every particle
+of color had deserted, not her face only, but her hands
+as well. Her eyes were sunless, her lips contracted and
+livid. She was motionless as a parian statue, she hardly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>220]</a></span>
+seemed to breathe. She perfectly understood what her
+aunt had laid upon her, her bodily sensations were dead
+whilst a conflict of ideas raged in her brain. She was
+the arbiter of Jamie&rsquo;s fate. She did not disguise from
+herself that if consigned to the keeper of the asylum,
+though only for a week or two, he would not leave his
+charge the same as he entered. And what would it
+avail her or him to postpone the decision a week or a
+fortnight.</p>
+
+<p>The brothers Scantlebray knew nothing of the question
+agitating her, but they saw that the determination
+at which she was resolving was one that cost her all her
+powers. Mr. Obadiah&rsquo;s heavy mind did not exert itself
+to probe the secret, but the more eager intellect of his
+elder brother was alert, and wondering what might be
+the matter that so affected the girl, and made it so difficult
+for her to pronounce the decision. The hard eyes of
+Miss Trevisa were fixed on her. Judith&rsquo;s answer would
+decide her future&mdash;on it depended Othello Cottage, and
+an annuity of fifty pounds. Jamie looked through a veil
+of tears at his sister, and never for a moment turned
+them from her, from the moment of his entry into the
+room. Instinctively the boy felt that his freedom and
+happiness depended on her.</p>
+
+<p>One or the other must be sacrificed. That Judith saw
+Jamie was dull of mind, but there were possibilities of
+development in it. And, even if he remained where he
+was, he was happy, happy and really harmless, if a little
+mischievous; an offer had been made which was likely
+to lead him on into industrious ways, and to teach him
+application. He loved his liberty, loved it as does the
+gull. In an asylum he would pine, his mind become
+more enfeebled, and he would die. But then&mdash;what a
+price must be paid to save him? Oh, if she could have
+put the question to her father. But she had none to
+appeal to for advice. If she gave to Jamie liberty and
+happiness, it was at the certain sacrifice of her own.
+But there was no evading the decision, one or the other
+must go.</p>
+
+<p>She stretched forth the peacock&rsquo;s feather, laid the
+great indigo blue eye on the bands that held Jamie, on
+his gagged lips, and said: &ldquo;Let him go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You agree!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Trevisa.</p>
+
+<p>Judith doubled the peacock&rsquo;s feather and broke it.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>221]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXX.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">THROUGH THE TAMARISKS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>For some time after Judith had given her consent, and
+had released Jamie from the hands of the Scantlebrays,
+she remained still and white. Uncle Zachie missed the
+music to which he had become used, and complained.
+She then seated herself at the piano, but was distraught,
+played badly, and the old bird-stuffer went away grumbling
+to his shop.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie was happy, delighted not to be afflicted with
+lessons, and forgot past troubles in present pleasures.
+That the recovery of his liberty had been bought at a
+heavy price, he did not know, and would not have appreciated
+it had he been told the sacrifice Judith had
+been ready to make for his sake.</p>
+
+<p>In the garden behind the cottage was an arbor, composed
+of half a boat set up, that is to say, an old boat
+sawn in half, and erected so that it served as a shelter
+to a seat, which was fixed into the earth on posts. From
+one side of this boat a trellis had been drawn, and covered
+with eschalonia, and a seat placed here as well, so
+that in this rude arbor it was possible for more than one
+to find accommodation. Here Judith and Jamie often sat;
+the back of the boat was set against the prevailing wind
+from the sea, and on this coast the air is unusually
+soft at the same time that it is bracing, enjoyable wherever
+a little shelter is provided against its violence.
+For violent it can be, and can buffet severely, yet its
+blows are those of a pillow.</p>
+
+<p>Here Judith was sitting one afternoon, alone, lost in
+a dream, when Uncle Zachie came into the garden with
+his pipe in his mouth, to stretch his legs, after a few
+minutes&rsquo; work at stuffing a cormorant.</p>
+
+<p>In her lap lay a stocking Judith was knitting for her
+brother, but she had made few stitches, and yet had been
+an hour in the summer-house. The garden of Mr.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>222]</a></span>
+Menaida was hedged off from a neighbor&rsquo;s grounds by a low
+wall of stone and clay and sand, in and out of which
+grew roughly strong tamarisks now in their full pale
+pink blossom. The eyes of Judith had been on these
+tamarisks, waving like plumes in the sea-air, when she
+was startled from her reverie by the voice of Uncle
+Zachie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Miss Judith! What is the matter with you?
+Dull, eh? Ah&mdash;wait a bit, when Oliver comes home we
+shall have mirth. He is full of merriment. A bright
+boy and a good son; altogether a fellow to be proud of,
+though I say it. He will return at the fall.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad to hear it, Mr. Menaida. You have not
+seen him for many years.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not for ten.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It will be a veritable feast to you. Does he remain
+long in England?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot say. If his employers find work for him at
+home, then at home he will tarry, but if they consider
+themselves best served by him at Oporto, then to Portugal
+must he return.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you honor me by taking a seat near me&mdash;under
+the trellis?&rdquo; asked Judith. &ldquo;It will indeed be a pleasure
+to me to have a talk with you; and I do need it very
+sore. My heart is so full that I feel I must spill some
+of it before a friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then indeed I will hold out both hands to catch the
+sweetness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay&mdash;it is bitter, not sweet, bitter as gall, and briny
+as the ocean.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not possible; a little salt gives savor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head, took up the stocking, did a couple
+of stitches, and put it down again. The sea-breeze that
+tossed the pink bunches of tamarisk waved stray tresses
+of her red-gold hair, but somehow the brilliancy, the
+burnish, seemed gone from it. Her eyes were sunken,
+and there was a greenish tinge about the ivory white
+surrounding her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot work, dear Mr. Menaida; I am so sorry that
+I should have played badly that sonata last night. I knew
+it fretted you, but I could not help myself, my mind is so
+selfishly directed that I cannot attend to anything even
+of Beethoven&rsquo;s in music, nor to stocking-knitting even for
+Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>223]</a></span>
+&ldquo;And what are the bitter&mdash;briny thoughts?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith did not answer at once, she looked down into
+her lap, and Mr. Menaida, whose pipe was choked, went
+to the tamarisks and plucked a little piece, stripped off
+the flower and proceeded to clear the tube with it.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, while Uncle Zachie&rsquo;s eyes were engaged on
+the pipe, Judith looked up, and said hastily, &ldquo;I am very
+young, Mr. Menaida.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A fault in process of rectification every day,&rdquo; said he,
+blowing through the stem of his pipe. &ldquo;I think it is
+clear now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean&mdash;young to be married.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To be married! Zounds!&rdquo; He turned his eyes on
+her in surprise, holding the tamarisk spill in one hand
+and the pipe in the other, poised in the air.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have not understood that I got Jamie off the
+other day only by taking full charge of him upon myself
+and relieving my aunt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;good gracious, you are not going to marry
+your brother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My aunt would not transfer the guardianship to me
+unless I were qualified to undertake and exercise it properly,
+according to her ideas, and that could be only by
+my becoming engaged to be married to a man of substance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Goodness help me! what a startlement! And who is
+the happy man to be? Not Scantlebray, senior, I trust,
+whose wife is dying.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;Captain Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cruel Coppinger!&rdquo; Uncle Zachie put down his pipe
+so suddenly on the bench by him that he broke it.
+&ldquo;Cruel Coppinger! never!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She said nothing to this, but rose and walked, with her
+head down, along the bank, and put her hands among the
+waving pink bunches of tamarisk bloom, sweeping the
+heads with her own delicate hand as she passed. Then
+she came back to the boat arbor and reseated herself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me! Bless my heart! I could not have credited
+it,&rdquo; gasped Mr. Menaida, &ldquo;and I had such different plans
+in my head&mdash;but there, no more about them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had to make my election whether to take him and
+qualify to become Jamie&rsquo;s guardian, or refrain, and then
+he would have been snatched away and imprisoned in
+that odious place again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>224]</a></span>
+&ldquo;But, my dear Miss Judith&mdash;&rdquo; the old man was so agitated
+that he did not know what he was about; he put the
+stick of tamarisk into his mouth in place of his pipe, and
+took it out to speak, put down his hand, picked up the
+bowl of his pipe, and tapped the end of the tamarisk
+spill with that; &ldquo;mercy save me! What a world we do
+live in. And I had been building for you a castle&mdash;not
+in Spain, but in a contiguous country&mdash;who&rsquo;d have
+thought it? And Cruel Coppinger, too! Upon my soul
+I don&rsquo;t want to say I am sorry for it, and I can&rsquo;t find in
+my heart to say I&rsquo;m glad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not expect that you will be glad&mdash;not if you
+have any love for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The old man turned round, his eyes were watering and
+his face twitching.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have, Heaven knows! I have&mdash;yes&mdash;I mean Miss
+Judith.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Menaida,&rdquo; said the girl, &ldquo;you have been so kind,
+so considerate, that I should like to call you what every
+one else does&mdash;when speaking of you to one another&mdash;not
+to your face&mdash;Uncle Zachie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He put out his hand, it was shaking, and caught hers.
+He put the ends of the fingers to his lips; but he kept
+his face averted, and the water that had formed in his
+eyes ran down his cheeks. He did not venture to speak.
+He had lost command over his voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see, uncle, I have no one of whom to ask counsel.
+I have only aunt, and she&mdash;somehow&mdash;I feel that I cannot
+go to her, and get from her the advice best suited to
+me. Now papa is dead I am entirely alone, and I have
+to decide on matters most affecting my own life, and that
+of Jamie. I do so crave for a friend who could give me
+an opinion&mdash;but I have no one, if you refuse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He pressed her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not that now I can go back from my word. I have
+passed that to Aunt Dionysia, and draw back I may not;
+but somehow, as I sit and think, and think, and try to
+screw myself up to the resolution that must be reached
+of giving up my hand and my whole life into the power
+of&mdash;of that man, I cannot attain to it. I feel like one
+who is condemned to cast himself down a precipice and
+shrinks from it, cannot make up his mind to spring, but
+draws back after every run made to the edge. Tell me&mdash;uncle&mdash;tell
+me truly, what do you think about Captain
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>225]</a></span>
+Coppinger? What do you know about him? Is he a
+very wicked man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ask me what I think, and also what I know,&rdquo; said
+Mr. Menaida, releasing her hand. &ldquo;I know nothing,
+but I have my thoughts.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then tell me what you think.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As I have said, I know nothing. I do not know
+whence he comes. Some say he is a Dane, some that he
+is an Irishman. I cannot tell, I know nothing, but I
+think his intonation is Irish, and I have heard that there
+is a family of that name in Ireland. But this is all guesswork.
+One thing I do know, he speaks French like a
+native. Then, as to his character, I believe him to be a
+man of ungovernable temper, who, when his blood is
+roused will stick at nothing. I think him a man of very
+few scruples. But he has done liberal things&mdash;he is
+open-handed, that all say. A hard liver, and with a
+rough tongue, and yet with some of the polish of a
+gentleman; a man with the passions of a devil, but not
+without in him some sparks of divine light. That is
+what I think him to be. And if you ask me further,
+whether I think him a man calculated to make you happy&mdash;I
+say decidedly that he is not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rarely before in his life had Mr. Menaida spoken with
+such decision.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has been kind to me,&rdquo; said Judith. &ldquo;Very kind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because he is in love with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And gentle&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you ever done aught to anger him!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I threw him down and broke his arm and
+collar-bone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And won his heart by so doing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Zachie, he is a smuggler.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;there is no doubt about that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you suppose if I were to entreat him that he
+would abandon smuggling? I have already had it in
+my heart to ask him this, but I could not bring the request
+over my lips.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have no doubt if you asked him to throw up his
+smuggling that he would promise to do so. Whether he
+would keep his promise is another matter. Many a girl
+has made her lover swear to give up gambling, and on
+that understanding has married him; but I reckon none
+have been able to keep their husbands to the engagement.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>226]</a></span>
+Gambling, smuggling, and poaching, my dear,
+are in the blood. A man brings the love of adventure,
+the love of running a risk, into the world with him. If I
+had been made by my wife to swear when I married never
+to touch a musical instrument, I might out of love for
+her have sworn, but I could not have kept my oath.
+And you&mdash;if you vowed to keep your fingers from needle
+and thread, and saw your gown in rags, or your husband&rsquo;s
+linen frayed&mdash;would find an irresistible itch in the
+finger ends to mend and hem, and you would do it, in
+spite of your vows. So with a gambler, a poacher, and a
+smuggler, the instinct, the passion is in them and is
+irresistible. Don&rsquo;t impose any promise on Captain Cruel,
+it will not influence him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They tell me he is a wrecker.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean by a wrecker! We are all wreckers,
+after a storm, when a merchantman has gone to
+pieces on the rocks, and the shore is strewn with prizes.
+I have taken what I could, and I see no harm in it.
+When the sea throws treasures here and there, it is a
+sin not to take them up and use them and be thankful.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not mean that. I mean that he has been the
+means of luring ships to their destruction.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of that I know nothing. Stories circulate whenever
+there is a wreck not in foul weather or with a wind
+on shore. But who can say whether they be true or
+false?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And about that man, Wyvill. Did he kill him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There also I can say nothing, because I know nothing.
+All that can be said about the matter is that the Preventive
+man Wyvill was found at sea&mdash;or washed ashore
+without his head. A shark may have done it, and sharks
+have been found off our coast. I cannot tell. There is
+not a shadow of evidence that could justify an indictment.
+All that can be stated that makes against Coppinger
+is that the one is a smuggler, the other was a
+Preventive man, and that the latter was found dead and
+with his head off, an unusual circumstance, but not sufficient
+to show that he had been decapitated by any
+man, nor that the man who decapitated him was Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Menaida started up: &ldquo;And&mdash;you sell yourself
+to this man for Jamie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, uncle, to make a man of Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>227]</a></span>
+&ldquo;On the chance, Judith, on the very doubtful chance
+of making a man of Jamie, you rush on the certainty of
+making a ruin of yourself. That man&mdash;that Coppinger
+to be trusted with you! A fair little vessel, richly
+laden, with silken sail, and cedar sides, comes skimmering
+over the sea, and&mdash;Heaven forgive me if I judge
+wrongly&mdash;but I think he is a wrecker, enticing, constraining
+you on to the reefs where you will break up,
+and all your treasures will&mdash;not fall to him&mdash;but sink;
+and all that will remain of you will be a battered and
+broken hull, and a draggled discolored sail. I cannot&mdash;I
+cannot endure the thought.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yet it must be endured, faced and endured by me,&rdquo;
+said Judith. &ldquo;You are a cruel comforter, Uncle Zachie.
+I called you to encourage me, and you cast me down; to
+lighten my load, and you heap more on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can do no other,&rdquo; gasped Mr. Menaida. Then he
+sprang back, with open mouth, aghast. He saw Cruel
+Coppinger on the other side of the hedge, he had put
+his hands to the tamarisk bushes, and thrust them apart
+and was looking through.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Goldfish!&rdquo; called Captain Coppinger, &ldquo;Goldfish,
+come!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith knew the voice and looked in the direction
+whence it came, and saw the large hands of Coppinger
+holding back the boughs of tamarisk, his dark face in
+the gap. She rose at once and stepped toward him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are ill,&rdquo; he said, fixing his sombre eyes on her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not ill in body. I have had much to harass my
+mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that Wadebridge business.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What has sprung out of it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I come to you, or will you to me!&mdash;through the
+tamarisks?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As you will, Captain Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, then&mdash;up on to the hedge and jump&mdash;I will
+catch you in my arms. I have held you there ere this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you have taken me up, now must I throw&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; She
+did not finish the sentence; she meant, must she
+voluntarily throw herself into his arms?</p>
+
+<p>She caught hold of the bushes and raised herself to
+the top of the hedge.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By Heaven!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;The tamarisk flowers have
+more color in them than your face.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>228]</a></span>
+She stood on the summit of the bank, the tamarisks
+rising to her knees, waving in the wind about her.
+Must she resign herself to that man of whom she knew
+so little, whom she feared so greatly? There was no
+help for it. She must. He held out his arms. She
+sprang, and he caught her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have you now,&rdquo; he said, with a laugh of triumph.
+&ldquo;You have come to me, and I will never give you up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>229]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXI.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Coppinger held her in his arms, shook her hair out
+that it streamed over his arm, and looked into her upturned
+face. &ldquo;Indeed you are light, lighter than when
+I bore you in my arms before; and you are thin and
+white, and the eyes, how red. You have been crying.
+What! this spirit, strong as a steel spring, so subdued
+that it gives way to weeping!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith&rsquo;s eyes were closed against the strong light
+from the sky above, and against the sight of his face
+bent over hers, and the fire glint of his eyes, dark as a
+thundercloud and as charged with lightnings. And now
+there was a flashing of fire from them, of love and pride
+and admiration. The strong man trembled beneath his
+burden in the vehemence of his emotion. The boiling
+and paining of his heart within him, as he held the frail
+child in his arms, and knew she was to be his own, his
+own wholly, in a short space. It was for the moment to
+him as though all earth and sea and heaven were dissolved
+with nebulous chaos, and the only life&mdash;the only
+pulses in the universe&mdash;were in him and the little creature
+he held to his breast. He looked into her face, down on
+her as Vesuvius must have looked down on lovely, marble,
+white Pompeii, with its gilded roofs and incense-scented
+temples, and restrained itself, as long as restrain its
+molten heart it could, before it poured forth its fires and
+consumed the pearly city lying in its arms.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her closed eyelids with the long golden
+lashes resting on the dark sunken dip beneath, at the
+delicate mouth drawn as with pain, at the white temples
+in which slowly throbbed the blue veins, at the profusion
+of red-gold hair streaming over his arm and almost
+touching the ground.</p>
+
+<p>She knew that his eyes&mdash;on fire&mdash;were on her, and she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>230]</a></span>
+dared not meet them, for there would be a shrinking&mdash;from
+him, no responsive leap of flame from hers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I carry you about like this!&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;I
+could and I would, to the world&rsquo;s end, and leap with you
+thence into the unfathomed abyss.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her head, leaning back on his arm, with the gold rain
+falling from it, exposed her long and delicate throat of
+exquisite purity of tint and beauty of modelling, and as
+it lay a little tuft of pink tamarisk blossom, brushed off
+in her lap into his arms, and then caught in the light
+edging of her dress, at the neck.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you come to me of your own will?&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Then Judith slightly turned her head to avoid his
+eyes, and said, &ldquo;I have come&mdash;it was unavoidable. Let
+me down, that we may speak together.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He obeyed with reluctance. Then, standing before
+him, she bound up and fastened her hair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look!&rdquo; said he, and threw open his collar. A ribbon
+was tied about his throat. &ldquo;Do you see this?&rdquo; He
+loosed the band and held it to her. One delicate line of
+gold ran along the silk, fastened to it by threads at intervals.
+&ldquo;Your own hair. The one left with me when
+you first heard me speak of my heart&rsquo;s wish, and you disdained
+me and went your way. You left me that one
+hair, and that one hair I have kept wound round my
+neck ever since, and it has seemed to me that I might
+still have caught my goldfish, my saucy goldfish that
+swam away from my hook at first.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith said calmly; &ldquo;Let us walk together somewhere&mdash;to
+St. Enodoc, to my father&rsquo;s grave, and there, over
+that sand-heap we will settle what must be settled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will go with you where you will. You are my
+Queen, I your subject&mdash;it is my place to obey.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The subject has sometimes risen and destroyed the
+Queen; it has been so in France.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, when the subject has been too hardly treated,
+too down-trodden, not allowed to look on and adore the
+Queen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And,&rdquo; said Judith further, &ldquo;let us walk in silence,
+allow me the little space between here and my father&rsquo;s
+grave to collect my thoughts, bear with me for that short
+distance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As you will. I am your slave, as I have told you, and
+you my mistress have but to command.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>231]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Yes, but the slave sometimes becomes the master,
+and then is all the more tyrannous because of his former
+servitude.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So they walked together, yet apart, from Polzeath to
+St. Enodoc, neither speaking, and it might have been a
+mourner&rsquo;s walk at a funeral. She held her head down,
+and did not raise her eyes from the ground, but he continued
+to gaze on her with a glow of triumph and exultation
+in his face.</p>
+
+<p>They reached at length the deserted church, sunken in
+the sands; it had a hole broken in the wall under the
+eaves in the south, rudely barricaded, through which the
+sacred building might be entered for such functions as a
+marriage, or the first part of the funeral office that must
+be performed in a church.</p>
+
+<p>The roof was of pale gray slate, much broken, folding
+over the rafters like the skins on the ribs of an old
+horse past work. The church-yard was covered with
+plain sand. Gravestones were in process of being buried
+like those whom they commemorated. Some peeped
+above the sand, with a fat cherub&rsquo;s head peering above
+the surface. Others stood high on the land side, but
+were banked up by sand toward the sea. Here the
+church-yard surface was smooth, there it was tossed with
+undulations, according as the sand had been swept over
+portions tenanted by the poor who were uncommemorated
+with head-stones, or over those where the well-to-do
+lay with their titles and virtues registered above them.</p>
+
+<p>There was as yet no monument erected over the grave
+of the Reverend Peter Trevisa, sometime rector of St.
+Enodoc. The mound had been turfed over and bound
+down with withes. The loving hands of his daughter
+had planted some of the old favorite flowers from the
+long walk at the rectory above where he lay, but they
+had not as yet taken to the soil, the sand ill agreed with
+them, and the season of the year when their translation
+had taken place dissatisfied them, and they looked forlorn,
+drooping, and doubted whether they would make
+the struggle to live.</p>
+
+<p>Below the church lay the mouths of the Camel, blue
+between sand-hills, with the Doom Bar, a long and
+treacherous band of shifting sands in the midst.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the graveyard Judith signed to Captain
+Coppinger to seat himself on a flat tombstone on the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>232]</a></span>
+south side of her father&rsquo;s grave, and she herself leaned
+against the headstone that marked her mother&rsquo;s tomb.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think we should come to a thorough understanding,&rdquo;
+she said, with composure, &ldquo;that you may not expect
+of me what I cannot give, and know the reason why I
+give you anything. You call me Goldfish. Why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because of your golden hair.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;that was not what sprung the idea in your brain,
+it was something I said to you, that you and I stood to
+each other in the relation of bird of prey to fish, belonging
+to distinct modes of life and manner of thinking,
+and that we could never be to one another in any
+other relation than that, the falcon and his prey, the
+flame and its fuel, the wreckers and the wrecked.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger started up and became red as blood.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These are strange words,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is the same that I said before.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then why have you given yourself to me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have resigned myself to you, as I cannot help myself
+any more than the fish can that is pounced on by
+the sea-bird, or the fuel that is enveloped by the flame,
+or the ship that is boarded by the wrecker.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him steadily; he was quivering with
+excitement, anger, and disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is quite right that you should know what to expect,
+and make no more demands on me that I am capable
+of answering. You cannot ask of me that I should
+become like you, and I do not entertain the foolish
+thought that you could be brought to be like me&mdash;to see
+through my eyes, feel with my heart. My dead father
+lies between us now, and he will ever be between us&mdash;he
+a man of pure life, noble aspirations, a man of books, of
+high principle, fearing God and loving men. What he
+was he tried to make me. Imperfectly, faultily, I follow
+him, but though unable to be like him, I strive after
+what he showed me should be my ideal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are a child. You will be a woman, and new
+thoughts will come to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will they be good and honorable and contented
+thoughts? Shall I find those in your house?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger did not reply, his brows were drawn together
+and his face became dark.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, then, have you promised to come to me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because of Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>233]</a></span>
+He uttered an oath, and with his hands clenched the
+upper stone of the tomb.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have promised my aunt that I will accept you, if
+you will suffer my poor brother to live where I live,
+and suffer me to be his protector. He is helpless and
+must have someone to think and watch for him. My
+aunt would have sent him to Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray&rsquo;s
+asylum, and that would have been fatal to him. To save
+him from that I said that I would be yours, on the condition
+that my home should be his home. I have passed
+my word to my aunt, and I will not go from it, but that
+does not mean that I have changed my belief that we
+are unfitted for each other, because we belong to different
+orders of being.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is cold comfort.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is cold as ice, but it is all that I have to give to
+you. I wish to put everything plainly before you now,
+that there may be no misapprehension later, and you
+may be asking of me what I cannot give, and be angry
+at not receiving what I never promised to surrender.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So! I am only accepted for the sake of that boy,
+Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is painful for me to say what I do&mdash;as painful as
+it must be for you to hear it, but I cannot help myself.
+I wish to put all boldly and hardly before you before an
+irrevocable step is taken such as might make us both
+wretched. I take you for Jamie&rsquo;s sake. Were his happiness,
+his well-being not in the scale, I would not take
+you. I would remain free.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is plain enough,&rdquo; exclaimed Coppinger, setting
+his teeth, and he broke off a piece of the tombstone on
+which he was half sitting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will ask of me love, honor, and obedience. I will
+do my best to love you&mdash;like you I do now, for you have
+been kind and good to me, and I can never forget what
+you have done for me. But it is a long leap from liking
+to loving, still I will try my best, and if I fail it will not
+be for lack of effort. Honor is another matter. That
+lies in your own power to give. If you behave as a good
+and worthy man to your fellows, and justly toward me,
+of course I shall honor you. I must honor what is deserving
+of honor, and where I honor there I may come
+to love. I cannot love where I do not honor, so perhaps
+I may say that my heart is in your hands, and that if
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>234]</a></span>
+those hands are clean and righteous in their dealings it
+may become yours some time. As to obedience&mdash;that
+you shall command. That I will render to you frankly
+and fully in all things lawful.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You offer me an orange from which all the juice has
+been squeezed, a nut without a kernel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I offer you all I have to offer. Is it worth your while
+having this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes!&rdquo; said he angrily, starting up, &ldquo;I will have
+what I can and wring the rest out of you, when once you
+are mine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You never will wring anything out of me. I give
+what I may, but nothing will I yield to force.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her sullenly and said, &ldquo;A child in years
+with an old head and a stony heart.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have always lived with my father, and so have
+come to think like one that is old,&rdquo; said Judith, &ldquo;and
+now, alone in the world, I must think with ripened
+wits.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not want that precocious, wise soul, if that be
+the kernel. I will have the shell&mdash;the glorious shell.
+Keep your wisdom and righteousness and piety for yourself.
+I do not value them a rush. But your love I will
+have.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have told you there is but one way by which that
+may be won. But indeed, Captain Coppinger, you have
+made a great mistake in thinking of me. I am not
+suited to you to make you happy and content; any more
+than you are suited to me. Look out for some girl more
+fit to be your mate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of what sort? Come, tell me!&rdquo; said Coppinger
+scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A fine, well-built girl, dark-haired, dark-eyed, with
+cheeks like apricots, lively in mood, with nimble tongue,
+good-natured, not bookish, not caring for brush or
+piano, but who can take a rough word and return it;
+who will not wince at an oath, and shrink away at coarse
+words flung about where she is. All these things you
+know very well must be encountered by your wife, in
+your house. Did you ever read &lsquo;Hamlet,&rsquo; Captain Coppinger?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He made no answer, he was plucking at the slab-cover
+of the tomb and grinding his heels into the sand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In &lsquo;Hamlet,&rsquo; we read of a king poisoned by his queen,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>235]</a></span>
+who dipped the juice of cursed hebenon into his ears,
+and it curdled all his blood. It is the same with the
+sort of language that is found in your house when your
+seamen are there. I cannot endure it, it curdles my heart&mdash;choose
+a girl who is indifferent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall not be subjected to it,&rdquo; said Coppinger, &ldquo;and
+as to the girl you have sketched&mdash;I care not for her&mdash;such
+as you describe are to be found thick as whortle-berries
+on a moor. Do you not know that man seeks in
+marriage not his counterpart but his contrast? It is
+because you are in all things different from me that I
+love you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then will naught that I have said make you desist?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Naught.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have told you that I take you only so as to be able
+to make a home for Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And that I do not love you and hardly think I can
+ever.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And still you will have me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And that by taking me you wreck my life&mdash;spoil my
+happiness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He raised his head, then dropped it again and said,
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She remained silent, also looking on the ground. Presently
+she raised her head and said: &ldquo;I gave you a
+chance, and you have cast it from you. I am sorry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A chance? What chance?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The chance of taking a first step up the ladder in my
+esteem.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not understand you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Therefore I am sorry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is your meaning?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger,&rdquo; said Judith, firmly, looking
+straight into his dark face and flickering eyes, &ldquo;I am
+very, very sorry. When I told you that I accepted your
+offer only because I could not help myself, because I was
+a poor, feeble orphan, with a great responsibility laid on
+me, the charge of my unfortunate brother; that I only
+accepted you for his sake when I told you that I did not
+love you, that our characters, our feelings were so different
+that it would be misery to me to become your wife&mdash;that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>236]</a></span>
+it would be the ruin of my life, then&mdash;had you
+been a man of generous soul, you would have said&mdash;I will
+not force myself upon you, but I will do one thing for
+you, assist you in protecting Jamie from the evil that
+menaces him. Had you said that I would have honored
+you, and as I said just now, where I honor, there I may
+love. But you could not think such a thought, no such
+generous feeling stirred you. You held me to my bond.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hold you to your bond,&rdquo; exclaimed Coppinger, in
+loud rage. &ldquo;I hold you, indeed. Even though you can
+neither love nor honor me, you shall be mine. You
+likened me to a bird of prey that must have its prey or
+die, to a fire&mdash;and that must have its fuel&mdash;to a wrecker,
+and he must have his wreck, I care not. I will have you
+as mine, whether you love me or not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So be it, then,&rdquo; said Judith, sadly. &ldquo;You had your
+opportunity and have put it from you. We understand
+each other. The slave is master&mdash;and a tyrant.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>237]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A DANGEROUS GIFT.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do love a proper muddle, cruel bad, I do,&rdquo; said
+Jump, and had what she loved, for the preparations for
+Judith&rsquo;s marriage threw Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s trim cottage into
+a &ldquo;proper muddle.&rdquo; There were the cakes to be baked,
+and for a while the interior of the house was pervaded by
+that most delicious aroma of baking bread superior to
+frangipani, jockey club, and wood violet. Then came
+the dusting, and after that the shaking and beating of the
+rugs and sofa and chairs. Then it was discovered that
+the ceilings and walls would be the better for white and
+color-wash. This entailed the turning out of every thing
+previously dusted and tidied and arranged. Neither Mr.
+Menaida nor Jump had any other idea of getting things
+into order than throwing all into a muddle in the hopes
+that out of chaos, exactness and order might spring.</p>
+
+<p>A dressmaker had been engaged and material purchased,
+for the fabrication of a trousseau. This naturally
+interested Jamie vastly, and Jump paid repeated visits
+to the dressmaker, whilst engaged on her work. On one
+such occasion she neglected the kitchen and allowed some
+jam to become burnt. On another she so interested the
+needlewoman and diverted her attention from her work,
+whilst cutting out that the latter cut out two right arms
+to the wedding gown. This involved a difficulty, as it
+was not practicable either to turn the one sleeve, and
+convert it into a left arm, nor to remove Judith&rsquo;s left
+arm and attach it to the right side of her body, and so
+accommodate her to the gown. The mercer at Camelford
+was communicated with, from whom the material
+had been procured, but he was out of it, he however was
+in daily expectation of a consignment of more of the
+same stuff. A fortnight later he was able to supply the
+material, sufficient for a left sleeve, but unfortunately of
+a different color. The gown had to be laid aside till
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>238]</a></span>
+some one could be found of Judith&rsquo;s size and figure with
+two right arms, and also who wanted a wedding dress,
+and also would be disposed to take this particular one
+at half the cost of the material, or else to let the gown
+stand over till after the lapse of a century or thereabouts,
+when the fashion would prevail for ladies to wear sleeves
+of a different substance and color from their bodies and
+skirts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Taint a sort o&rsquo; a courtin&rsquo; as I&rsquo;d give a thankee for,&rdquo;
+said Jump. &ldquo;There was Camelford goose fair, and
+whether he axed her to go wi&rsquo; him and pick a goose I
+can&rsquo;t tell, but I know her never went. Then o&rsquo; Sundays
+they don&rsquo;t walk one another out. And he doesn&rsquo;t come
+arter her to the back garden, and she go to him, and no
+whisperings and kissings. I&rsquo;ve listened a score o&rsquo; times
+a hoping and a wishing to see and hear the likes, and
+never once as I&rsquo;m a Christian and a female. There
+were my sister Jane, when she was going to be married,
+her got that hot and blazin&rsquo; red that I thought it were
+scarletine, but it was naught but excitement. But the
+young mistress, bless &rsquo;ee, her gets whiter and colder every
+day, and I&rsquo;d say, if such a thing were possible, that her&rsquo;d
+rather her never was a going to be married. But you see
+that ain&rsquo;t in natur&rsquo;, leastways wi&rsquo; us females. I tell &rsquo;ee
+I never seed him once put his arm round her waist. If
+this be courtin&rsquo; among gentlefolks, all I say is preserve
+and deliver me from being a lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was as Jump, in her vulgar way, put it. Judith
+alone in the house appeared to take no interest in the
+preparations. It was only after a struggle with her aunt
+that she had yielded to have the wedding in November.
+She had wished it postponed till the spring, but Cruel
+Coppinger and Aunt Dionysia were each for their several
+ends desirous to have it in the late autumn. Coppinger
+had the impatience of a lover; and Miss Trevisa the
+desire to be free from a menial position and lodged in
+her new house before winter set in. She had amused
+herself over Othello Cottage ever since Judith had yielded
+her consent, and her niece saw little of her accordingly.</p>
+
+<p>It suited Coppinger&rsquo;s interest to have a tenant for the
+solitary cottage, and that a tenant who would excite no
+suspicions, as the house was employed as a store for various
+run goods, and it was understood between him and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>239]</a></span>
+Miss Trevisa, that he was still to employ the garret for
+the purposes that suited him.</p>
+
+<p>Had Othello Cottage remained long unoccupied, it
+was almost certain to attract the attention of the Preventive
+men, awake their suspicions, and be subjected to a
+visit. Its position was convenient, it was on the cliff of
+that cove where was the cave in which the smugglers&rsquo;
+boats were concealed.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger visited Polzeath and saw Judith whenever
+he came to Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s house, but his wooing met
+with no response. She endured his attentions, shrinking
+from the slightest approach to familiarity, and
+though studiously courteous was never affectionate. It
+would take a heavy charge of self-conceit to have made
+the Captain blind to the fact that she did not love him,
+that in truth she viewed her approaching marriage with
+repugnance. Coppinger was a proud, but not a conceited
+man, and her coldness and aversion aroused his anger,
+for it galled his pride. Had he been a man of noble impulse,
+he would have released her, as she had already
+told him, but he was too selfish, too bent on carrying
+out his own will to think of abandoning his suit.</p>
+
+<p>Her lack of reciprocation did not abate his passion, it
+aggravated it. It enlisted his self-esteem in the cause,
+and he would not give her up, because he had set his
+mind upon obtaining her, and to confess his defeat
+would have been a humiliation insufferable to his
+haughty spirit. But it was not merely that he would
+not, it was also that he could not. Coppinger was a man
+who had, all his life long, done what he willed, till his
+will had become in him the mainspring of his existence,
+and drove him to execute his purposes in disregard of
+reason, safety, justice, and opposition. He would eat
+out his own furious heart in impotent rage, if his will
+were encountered by impossibility of execution. And
+he was of a sanguine temperament. Hitherto every opposition
+had been overthrown before him, therefore he
+could not conceive that the heart of a young girl, a mere
+child, could stand out against him permanently. For
+a while it might resist, but ultimately it must yield,
+and then the surrender would be absolute, unconditional.</p>
+
+<p>Every time he came to see her, he came with hopes,
+almost with confidence, that the icy barrier would
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>240]</a></span>
+dissolve, but when in her presence the chill from it struck
+him, numbed his heart, silenced his tongue, deadened
+his thoughts. Yet no sooner was he gone from the
+house, than his pulses leaped, his brain whirled, and he
+was consumed with mortified pride and disappointed
+love. He could not be rough, passionate or imperious
+with her. A something he could not understand, certainly
+not define, streamed from her that kept him at a
+distance and quelled his insolence. It was to him at
+moments as if he hated her; but this hate was but the
+splutter of frustrated love. He recalled the words she
+had spoken to him, and the terms she had employed in
+speaking of the relation in which they stood to each
+other, the only relations to her conceivable in which
+they could stand to each other, and each such word was a
+spark of fire, a drop of flaming phosphorus on his heart,
+torturing it with pain, and unquenchable. A word once
+spoken can never be recalled, and these words had been
+thrown red hot at him, had sunk in and continued to
+consume where they had fallen. He was but a rapacious
+bird and she the prey, he the fire and she the fuel, he the
+wrecker and she the wreck. There could be no reciprocity
+between them, the bird in the talons of the hawk,
+rent by his beak could do no other than shiver and
+shriek and struggle to be free. The fuel could but expect
+to be consumed to ashes in the flames; and the
+wrecked must submit to the wrecker. He brooded over
+these similes, he chafed under the conviction that there
+was truth in them, he fought against the idea that a return
+of his love was impossible&mdash;and then his passion
+raged and roared up in a fury that was no other than
+hatred of the woman who could not be his in heart.
+Then, in another moment, he cooled down, and trusted
+that what he dreaded would not be. He saw before him
+the child, white as a lily, with hair as the anthers of the
+lily&mdash;so small, so fragile, so weak; and he laughed to
+think that one such, with no experience of life, one who
+had never tasted love, could prove insensible to his devouring
+passion. The white asbestos in the flame glows,
+and never loses its delicacy and its whiteness.</p>
+
+<p>And Judith was, as Jump observed, becoming paler
+and more silent as her marriage drew on. The repugnance
+with which she had viewed it instead of abating
+intensified with every day. She woke in the night with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>241]</a></span>
+a start of horror, and a cold sweat poured from her. She
+clasped her hands over her eyes and buried her face in
+her pillow and trembled, so that the bed rattled. She
+lost all appetite. Her throat was contracted when she
+touched food. She found it impossible to turn her
+mind to the preparations that were being made for her
+wedding, she suffered her aunt to order for her what she
+liked, she was indifferent when told of the blunder made
+by the dressmaker in her wedding-gown. She could not
+speak at meals. When Mr. Menaida began to talk, she
+seemed to listen, but her mind was elsewhere. She resumed
+lessons with Jamie, but was too abstracted to be
+able to teach effectually. A restlessness took hold of
+her and impelled her to be out of doors and alone. Any
+society was painful to her, she could endure only to be
+alone; and when alone, she did nothing save pluck at
+her dress, or rub her fingers one over the other&mdash;the
+tricks and convulsive movements of one on the point of
+death.</p>
+
+<p>But she did not yield to her aversion without an effort
+to accustom herself to the inevitable. She rehearsed
+to herself the good traits she had observed in Coppinger,
+his kindness, his forbearance toward herself, she
+took cognizance of his efforts to win her regard, to afford
+her pleasure, his avoidance of everything that he
+thought might displease her. And when she knew he
+was coming to visit her, she strove with herself; and
+formed the resolution to break down the coldness, and
+to show him some of that semblance of affection which
+he might justly expect. But it was in vain. No sooner
+did she hear his step, or the first words he uttered, no
+sooner did she see him, than she turned to stone, and
+the power to even feign an affection she did not possess
+left her. And when Coppinger had departed, there was
+stamped red hot on her brain the conviction that she
+could not possibly endure life with him.</p>
+
+<p>She prayed long and often, sometimes by her father&rsquo;s
+grave, always in bed when lying wakeful, tossing from
+side to side in anguish of mind; often, very often when
+on the cliffs looking out to sea, to the dark, leaden, sullen
+sea, that had lost all the laughter and color of summer.
+But prayer afforded her no consolation. The
+thought of marriage to such a man, whom she could
+not respect, whose whole nature was inferior to her own,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>242]</a></span>
+was a thought of horror. She could have nerved herself
+to death by the most excruciating of torments, but for
+this, not all the grace of heaven could fortify her.</p>
+
+<p>To be his mate, to be capable of loving him, she must
+descend to his level, and that she neither could nor would
+do. His prey, his fuel, his wreck&mdash;that she must become,
+but she could be nothing else&mdash;nothing else. As the day
+of her marriage approached her nervous trepidation became
+so acute that she could hardly endure the least
+noise. A strange footfall startled her and threw her into
+a paroxysm of trembling. The sudden opening of a door
+made her heart stand still.</p>
+
+<p>When her father had died, poignant though her sorrow
+had been, she had enjoyed the full powers of her
+mind. She had thought about the necessary preparations
+for the funeral, she had given orders to the servants,
+she had talked over the dear father to Jamie, she had wept
+his loss till her eyes were red. Not so now; she could not
+turn her thoughts from the all-absorbing terror; she
+could not endure an allusion to it from anyone, least of
+all to speak of it to her brother, and the power to weep
+was taken from her. Her eyes were dry; they burnt, but
+were unfilled by tears.</p>
+
+<p>When her father was dead she could look forward,
+think of him in paradise, and hope to rejoin him after
+having trustily executed the charge imposed on her by
+him. But now she could not look ahead. A shadow of
+horror lay before her, an impenetrable curtain. Her
+father was covering his face, was sunk in grief in his
+celestial abode; he could not help her. She could not
+go to him with the same open brow and childish smile
+as before. She must creep to his feet, and lay her head
+there, sullied by association with one against whom he
+had warned her, one whom he had regarded as the man
+that had marred his sacred utility, one who stood far below
+the stage of virtue and culture that belonged to his
+family and on which he had firmly planted his child.
+What was in her heart Judith could pour out before
+none; certainly not before Aunt Dionysia, devoid of a
+particle of sympathy with her niece. Nor could she
+speak her trouble to Uncle Zachie, a man void of resources,
+kind, able for a minute or two to sympathize,
+but never to go deeply into any trouble and understand
+more of a wound than the fester on the surface. Besides,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>243]</a></span>
+of what avail to communicate the anguish of her heart
+to anyone, when nothing could be done to alter the circumstances.
+She could not now draw back. Indeed it
+never occurred to her to be possible to go back from her
+undertaking. To save Jamie from an idiot asylum she
+had passed her word to give her hand at the altar to
+Cruel Coppinger, and her word was sacred. Aunt Dionysia
+trusted her word. Coppinger held to it, knowing
+that she gave it on compulsion and reluctantly, yet he
+showed his perfect confidence in its security.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Judith,&rdquo; said Mr. Menaida, &ldquo;I am so sorry
+about losing you, and what is more, losing Jamie, for I
+know very well that when he is at the Glaze he will find
+plenty to amuse him without coming to see me, or anyhow,
+coming to work with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope not, dear uncle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I lose a promising pupil.&rdquo; Then turning to the
+boy, he said: &ldquo;Jamie, I hope you will not give up stuffing
+birds, or, if you have not the patience to do that,
+that you will secure the skins and prepare them for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I will,&rdquo; said Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes, my dear boy,&rdquo; said Menaida, &ldquo;but don&rsquo;t
+you fancy I am going to trust you with arsenic for preparing
+the skins. I shall give that to your sister and
+she will keep the supply, eh, will you not, Judith?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I will take charge of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And let him have it as needed; never more than is
+needed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; asked Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because it is a dangerous thing to have lying about.&rdquo;
+Menaida ran into the workshop, and came back with a
+small tin box of the poison. &ldquo;Look here! here is a little
+bone spoon. Don&rsquo;t get the powder over your fingers.
+Why, a spoonful would make a man very ill, and two
+would kill him. So, Judith, I trust this to you. When
+Jamie has a skin to prepare he will go to you, and you
+will let him have only so much as he requires.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, uncle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She took the little tin of arsenic and put it in her workbox,
+under the tray that contained reels and needles.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>244]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">HALF A MARRIAGE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>One request Judith had made, relative to her marriage,
+and one only, after she had given way about the
+time when it was to take place, and this request concerned
+the place. She desired to be married, not in the
+parish church of S. Minver, but in that of S. Enodoc, in
+the yard of which lay her father and mother, and in
+which her father had occasionally ministered.</p>
+
+<p>It was true that no great display could be made in a
+building half-filled with sand, but neither Judith nor
+Coppinger, nor Aunt Dionysia desired display, and
+Jump, the sole person who wished that the wedding
+should be in full gala, was not consulted in the matter.</p>
+
+<p>November scowled over sea and land, perverting the
+former into lead and blighting the latter to a dingy
+brown.</p>
+
+<p>The wedding-day was sad. Mist enveloped the coast,
+wreathed the cliffs, drifted like smoke over the glebe, and
+lay upon the ocean, dense and motionless, like a mass of
+cotton-wool. Not a smile of sun, not a glimmer of sky,
+not a trace of outline in the haze overhead. The air
+was full of minute particles of moisture flying aimlessly,
+lost to all sense of gravity, in every direction. The mist
+had a fringe but no seams, and looked as if it were as
+unrendable as felt. It trailed over the soil, here lifting
+a ragged flock or tag of fog a few feet above the earth,
+there dropping it again and smearing water over all it
+touched. Vapor condensed on every twig and leaf, but
+only leisurely, and slowly dripped from the ends of
+thorns and leaves; but the weight of the water on some
+of the frosted and sickly foliage brought the leaves
+down with it. Every stone in every wall was lined with
+trickles of water like snail crawls. The vapor penetrated
+within doors, and made all articles damp, of whatever
+sort they were. Fires were reluctant to kindle,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>245]</a></span>
+chimneys smoked. The grates and irons broke out into
+eruptions of rust, mildew appeared on walls, leaks in
+roofs. The slate floors became dark and moist. Forks
+and spoons adhered to the hands of those who touched
+them, and on the keys of Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s piano drops
+formed.</p>
+
+<p>What smoke did escape from a chimney trailed down
+the roof. Decomposed leaves exhaled the scent of decay.
+From every stack-yard came a musty odor of wet
+straw and hay. Stable yards emitted their most fetid
+exudations that oozed through the gates and stained the
+roads. The cabbages in the kail-yards touched by frost
+announced that they were in decomposition, and the turnips
+that they were in rampant degeneration and rottenness.
+The very seaweed washed ashore impregnated
+the mist with a flavor of degeneration.</p>
+
+<p>The new rector, the Reverend Desiderius Mules had
+been in residence at St. Enodoc for three months. He
+had received but a hundred and twenty-seven pounds four
+and ninepence farthing for dilapidations, and was angry,
+declared himself cheated, and vowed he would never employ
+the agent Cargreen any more. And a hundred and
+twenty-seven pounds four and ninepence farthing went
+a very little way in repairing and altering the rectory to
+make it habitable to the liking of the Reverend Desiderius.
+The Reverend Peter Trevisa and his predecessors
+had been West Country men, and as such loved the sun,
+and chose to have the best rooms of the house with a
+southern aspect. But the Reverend Desiderius Mules
+had been reared in Barbadoes, and hated the sun, and
+elected to have the best rooms of the house to look north.
+This entailed great alterations. The kitchen had to be
+converted into parlor, and the parlor into kitchen, the
+dining-room into scullery, and the scullery into study,
+and the library enlarged to serve as dining-room. All
+the down-stairs windows had to be altered. Mr. Desiderius
+Mules liked to have French windows opening to
+the ground.</p>
+
+<p>In the same manner great transformations were made
+in the garden. Where Mr. Peter Trevisa had built up
+and planted a hedge there Mr. Desiderius Mules
+opened a gate, and where the late rector had laid down
+a drive there the new rector made garden beds. In the
+same manner shrubberies were converted into lawns, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>246]</a></span>
+lawns into shrubberies. The pump was now of no service
+outside the drawing-room window; it had to be removed
+to the other side of the house, and to serve the
+pump with water a new well had to be dug, and the old
+well that had furnished limpid and wholesome water was
+filled up. The site of the conservatory was considered
+the proper one for the well, and this entailed the destruction
+of the conservatory. Removal was intended,
+with a new aspect to the north, as a frigidarium, but
+when touched it fell to pieces, and in so doing furnished
+Mr. Desiderius Mules with much comment on the imposition
+to which he had been subjected, for he had
+taken this conservatory at a valuation, and that valuation
+had been for three pounds seven and fourpence
+ha&rsquo;penny, whereas its real value was, so he declared,
+three pounds seven and fourpence without the ha&rsquo;penny
+at the end or the three pounds before.</p>
+
+<p>When the Reverend Desiderius Mules heard that
+Captain Coppinger and Judith Trevisa were to be married
+in his church, &ldquo;By Jove,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;they shall pay
+me double fees as extra parochial. I shall get that out
+of them at all events. I have been choused sufficiently.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A post-chaise from Wadebridge conveyed Judith, Miss
+Trevisa, Uncle Zachie, and Jamie from Polzeath.</p>
+
+<p>The bride was restless. At one moment she leaned
+back, then forward; her eyes turned resolutely through
+the window at the fog. Her hands plucked at her veil
+or at her gloves; she spoke not a word throughout the
+drive. Aunt Dionysia was also silent. Opposite her
+sat Mr. Menaida in blue coat with brass buttons, white
+waistcoat outside a colored one, and white trousers
+tightly strapped. Though inclined to talk, he was unable
+to resist the depressing influence of his vis-a-vis,
+Miss Trevisa, who sat scowling at him with her thin lips
+closed. Jamie was excited, but as no one answered him
+when he spoke he also lapsed into silence.</p>
+
+<p>When the church-yard gate of St. Enodoc was reached,
+Mr. Menaida jumped out of the chaise with a sigh of relief,
+and muttered to himself that, had he known what
+to expect, he would have brought his pocket-flask with
+him, and have had a nip of cognac on the way.</p>
+
+<p>A good number of sight-seers had assembled from
+Polzeath and St. Enodoc, and stood in the church-yard,
+magnified by the mist to gigantic size. Over the graves
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>247]</a></span>
+of drowned sailors were planted the figure-heads of
+wrecked vessels, and these in the mist might have been
+taken as the dead risen and mingling with the living to
+view this dreary marriage.</p>
+
+<p>The bride herself looked ghostlike, or as a waft of the
+fog, but little condensed, blown through the graveyard
+toward the gap in the church wall, and blown through
+that also within.</p>
+
+<p>That gap was usually blocked with planks from a
+wreck, supported by beams; when the church was to be
+put in requisition, then the beams were knocked away,
+whereupon down clattered the boards and they were
+tossed aside. It had been so done on this occasion, and
+the fragments were heaped untidily among the graves
+under the church wall. The clerk-sexton had, indeed,
+considered that morning, with his hands in his pockets,
+whether it would be worth his while, assisted by the
+five bell-ringers, to take this accumulation of wreckage
+and pile it together out of sight, but he had thought
+that, owing to the fog, a veil would be drawn over the
+disorder, and he might be saved this extra trouble.</p>
+
+<p>Within the sacred building, over his boots in sand,
+stamped, and frowned, and paced, and growled the Reverend
+Desiderius Mules, in surplice, hood, and stole, very
+ill at ease and out of humor because the wedding-party
+arrived unpunctually, and he feared he might catch cold
+from the wind and fog that drifted in through the hole
+in the wall serving as door.</p>
+
+<p>The sand within was level with the sills of the windows;
+it cut the tables of commandments in half; had
+blotted away the majority of inhibitions against marriage
+within blood relationship and marriage kinship.
+The altar-rails were below the surface. The altar-table
+had been fished up and set against the east wall, not on
+this day for the marriage, but at some previous occasion.
+Then the sexton had placed two pieces of slate under
+the feet on one side, and not having found handy any
+other pieces, had thought that perhaps it did not
+matter. Consequently the two legs one side had
+sunk in the sand, and the altar-table formed an incline.</p>
+
+<p>A vast number of bats occupied the church, and by
+day hung like little moleskin purses from the roof.
+Complaints had been made of the disagreeableness of
+having these creatures suspended immediately over the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>248]</a></span>
+head of the officiant, accordingly the sexton had knocked
+away such as were suspended immediately above the
+altar and step&mdash;a place where the step was, beneath the
+sand; but he did not think it necessary to disturb those
+in other parts of the church. If they inconvenienced
+others, it was the penalty of curiosity, coming to see a
+wedding there. Toward the west end of the church some
+wooden pew-tops stood above the sand, and stuck into a
+gimlet-hole in the top rail of one was a piece of holly,
+dry and brown as a chip. It had been put there as a
+Christmas decoration the last year that the church was
+used for divine worship, at the feast of Noel; <em>when</em> that
+was, only the oldest men could remember. The sexton
+had looked at it several times with his hands in his
+pockets and considered whether it were worth while pulling
+his hands out and removing the withered fragment,
+and carrying it outside the church, but had arrived at
+the conclusion that it injured no one, and might therefore
+just as well remain.</p>
+
+<p>There were fragments of stained glass in the windows,
+in the upper light of the perpendicular windows saints
+and angels in white and gold on ruby and blue grounds.
+In one window a fragment of a Christ on the cross. But
+all were much obscured by cobwebs. The cobwebs, after
+having entangled many flies, caught and retained many
+particles of sand, became impervious to light and obscured
+the figures in the painted glass. The sexton had
+looked at these cobwebs occasionally and mused whether
+it would be worth his while to sweep them down, but as
+he knew that the church was rarely used for divine offices,
+and never for regular divine worship, he deemed
+that there was no crying necessity for their destruction.
+Life was short, and time might be better employed&mdash;to
+whit in talking to a neighbor, in smoking a pipe, in
+drinking a pint of ale, in larruping his wife, in reading
+the paper. Consequently the cobwebs remained.</p>
+
+<p>Had Mr. Desiderius Mules been possessed of antiquarian
+tastes, he might have occupied the time he was
+kept waiting in studying the bosses of carved oak that
+adorned the wagon-roof of the church, which were in
+some cases quaint, in the majority beautiful, and no two
+the same. And he might have puzzled out the meaning
+of three rabbits with only three ears between them forming
+a triangle, or three heads united in one neck, a king,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>249]</a></span>
+a queen, a bishop and a monk, or of a sow suckling a
+dozen little pigs.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Desiderius Mules had no artistic or archaeological
+faculty developed in him. His one object on
+the present occasion was to keep draught and damp from
+the crown of his head, where the hair was so scanty as
+hardly to exist at all. He did not like to assume his hat
+in the consecrated building, so he stamped about in the
+sand holding a red bandanna handkerchief on the top of
+his head, and grumbling at the time he was kept waiting,
+at the Cornish climate, at the way in which he had
+been &ldquo;choused&rdquo; in the matter of dilapidations for the
+chancel of the church, at the unintelligible dialect of the
+people, and at a good many other causes of irritation,
+notably at a bat which had not reverenced his bald pate,
+when he ventured beyond the range of the sexton&rsquo;s
+sweeping.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the clerk, who was outside, thrust in his
+head through the gap in the wall, and in a stage whisper
+announced, &ldquo;They&rsquo;s a-coming.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend Mules growled, &ldquo;There ought to be a
+right to charge extra when the parson is kept waiting&mdash;sixpence
+a minute, not a penny less. But we are choused
+in this confounded corner of the world in every way.
+Ha! there is a mildew-spot on my stole&mdash;all come of
+this villainous damp.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In the tower stood five men, ready to pull the ropes
+and sound a merry peal when the service was over, and
+earn a guinea. They had a firkin of ale in a corner,
+with which to moisten their inner clay between each
+round. Now that they heard that the wedding party
+had arrived they spat on their hands and heaved their
+legs out of the sand.</p>
+
+<p>Through the aperture in the wall entered the bridal
+party, a cloud of fog blowing in with them and enveloping
+them. They stepped laboriously through the fine
+sand, at this place less firm than elsewhere, having been
+dug into daily by the late rector in his futile efforts to
+clear the church.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Mules cast a suspicious look into the rafters above
+him to see that no profane bat was there, and opened his
+book.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida was to act as father to the bride, and
+there was no other bride&rsquo;s-maid than Miss Trevisa. As
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>250]</a></span>
+they waded toward the alter, Judith&rsquo;s strength failed,
+and she stood still. Then Uncle Zachie put his arm
+round her and half carried her over the sand toward the
+place where she must stand to give herself away. She
+turned her head and thanked him with her eyes, she
+could not speak. So deathly was her whiteness, so deficient
+in life did she seem, that Miss Trevisa looked at
+her with some anxiety, and a little doubt whether she
+would be able to go through the service.</p>
+
+<p>When Judith reached her place, her eyes rested on the
+sand. She did not look to her left side, she could hear
+no steps, for the sand muffled all sound of feet, but she
+knew by the cold shudder that thrilled through her, that
+Captain Coppinger was at her side.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here&mdash;now
+then order, if you please, and quiet, we are twenty-five
+minutes after time,&rdquo; said Mr. Desiderius Mules.</p>
+
+<p>The first few words, seven in all were addressed to the
+wedding party, the rest to a number of men and women
+and children who were stumbling and plunging into
+the church through the improvised door, thrusting each
+other forward, with a &ldquo;get along,&rdquo; and &ldquo;out of the road,&rdquo;
+all eager to secure a good sight of the ceremony, and
+none able to hurry to a suitable place because of the sand
+that impeded every step.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now then&mdash;I can&rsquo;t stay here all day!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Mules sniffed and applied the bandanna to his
+nose, as an indication that he was chilled, and that this
+rheum would be on the heads of the congregation, were
+he made ill by this delay.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dearly beloved, we are gathered,&rdquo; he began again,
+and he was now able to proceed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cruel,&rdquo; said he in loud and emphatic tones, &ldquo;wilt
+thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together
+after God&rsquo;s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?
+Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep
+her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other,
+keep thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The response of Coppinger went through the heart of
+Judith like a knife. Then the rector addressed her. For
+answer she looked up at him and moved her lips. He
+took her hand and placed it in that of Coppinger. It was
+cold as ice and quivering like an aspen leaf. As Captain
+Coppinger held it, it seemed to drag and become heavy
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>251]</a></span>
+in his hand, whilst he pronounced the words after the
+rector, making oath to take Judith as his own. Then
+the same words were recited to her, for her to repeat in
+order after the priest. She began, she moved her lips,
+looked him pleadingly in the face, her head swam, the
+fog filled the whole church and settled between her and
+the rector. She felt nothing save the grip of Coppinger&rsquo;s
+hand, and sank unconscious to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go forward,&rdquo; said Cruel. Mr. Menaida and Aunt
+Dionysia caught Judith and held her up. She could
+neither speak nor stir. Her lips were unclosed, she
+seemed to be gasping for breath like one drowning.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; persisted Cruel, and holding her left hand
+he thrust the ring on her fourth finger, repeating the
+words of the formula.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot proceed,&rdquo; said the Reverend Desiderius.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you will have to come again to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is unconscious,&rdquo; objected the rector.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is momentary only,&rdquo; said Aunt Dionysia; &ldquo;be
+quick and finish.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Mules hesitated a moment. He had no wish to return
+in like weather on another day; no wish again to be
+kept waiting five and twenty minutes. He rushed at the
+remainder of the office and concluded it at a hand gallop.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;the registers are at the rectory.
+Come there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger looked at Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not to-day. It is not possible. She is ill&mdash;faint. To-morrow.
+Neither she nor I nor the witnesses will run
+away. We will come to you to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zachie offered to assist Judith from the church.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Cruel, peremptorily, &ldquo;she is mine now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was able with assistance to walk, she seemed to
+recover for a moment in the air outside, but again lapsed
+into faintness on being placed in the chaise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To Pentyre Glaze,&rdquo; ordered Coppinger; &ldquo;our home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>252]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A BREAKFAST.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;She has been over-exerted, over-excited,&rdquo; said Miss
+Trevisa. &ldquo;Leave her to recover; in a few days she will
+be herself again. Remember, her father died of heart
+complaint, and though Judith resembles her mother
+rather than a Trevisa, she may have inherited from my
+brother just that one thing she had better have let him
+carry to his grave with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Judith was given the little room that adjoined her
+aunt&rsquo;s, and Miss Trevisa postponed for a week her migration
+to Othello Cottage.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Dionysia was uneasy about her niece; perhaps
+her conscience did suffer from some qualms when she
+saw how Judith shrank from the union she had driven
+her into for her own selfish convenience. She treated
+her in the wisest manner, now she had brought her to
+the Glaze, for she placed her in her old room next her
+own, and left her there to herself. Judith could hear
+her aunt walking about and muttering in the adjoining
+chamber, and was content to be left alone to recover her
+composure and strength.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zachie and Jump were, however, in sore distress;
+they had made the trim cottage ready, had prepared
+a wedding breakfast, engaged a helping hand or
+two, and no one had come to partake. Nor was Mr.
+Desiderius Mules in a cheerful mood. He had been invited
+to the breakfast, and was hungry and cold. He
+had to wait while Mr. Menaida ran up to Pentyre to
+know whether any one was going to honor his board.
+While he was away the rector stamped about the parlor,
+growling that he believed he was about to be &ldquo;choused
+out of his breakfast. There was really no knowing what
+these people in this out-of-the-world corner might do.&rdquo;
+Then he pulled off his boots and shook the sand out,
+rang for Jump, and asked at what hour precisely the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>253]</a></span>
+breakfast was to be eaten, and whether it was put on
+table to be looked at only.</p>
+
+<p>From Pentyre Glaze Mr. Menaida was not greatly
+successful in obtaining guests. He found some wild-looking
+men there in converse with Coppinger, men
+whom he knew by rumor to belong to a class that had
+no ostensible profession and means of living.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida had ordered in clotted cream, which would
+not keep sweet many days. It ought to be eaten at once.
+He wanted to know whether Coppinger, the bride, Miss
+Trevisa, anyone was coming to his house to consume the
+clotted cream. As Jamie was drifting about purposeless,
+and he alone seemed disposed to accompany Uncle
+Zachie, the old gentleman carried him off.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I s&rsquo;pose I can&rsquo;t on the spur of the moment go in and
+ask over St. Minver parson?&rdquo; asked Menaida, dubiously,
+of the St. Enodoc parson. &ldquo;You see I daresay he&rsquo;s hurt
+not to have had the coupling of &rsquo;em himself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Most certainly not,&rdquo; said Mr. Mules; &ldquo;an appetite
+is likely to go into faintness unless attended to at once.
+I know that the coats of my stomach are honeycombed
+with gastric juice. Shall I say grace? Another half-hour
+of delay will finish me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Consequently but three persons sat down to a plentiful
+meal; but some goose, cold, had hardly been served,
+when in came Mr. Scantlebray, the agent, with a cheery
+salutation of &ldquo;Hulloa, Menaida, old man! What, eating
+and drinking? I&rsquo;ll handle a knife and fork with you,
+unasked. Beg pardon, Mr. Mules. I&rsquo;m a rough man,
+and an old acquaintance of our good friend here. Hope
+I see you in the enjoyment of robust health, sir. Oh,
+Menaida, old man! I didn&rsquo;t expect such a thing as this.
+Now I begin to see daylight, and understand why I was
+turned out of the valuership, and why my brother lost
+this promising young pupil. Ah, ha! my man, you
+have been deprived of fun, such fun, roaring fun, by not
+being with my brother Scanty. Well, sir,&rdquo; to Mr. Mules,
+&ldquo;what was the figure of the valuation? You had a queer
+man on your side. I pity you. A man I wouldn&rsquo;t trust
+myself. I name no names. Now tell me, what did you
+get?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A hundred and twenty-seven pounds four and ninepence
+farthing. Monstrous&mdash;a chouse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As you say, monstrous. Why that chancel, show me
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>254]</a></span>
+the builder who will contract to do that alone at a hundred
+and twenty-seven pounds? And the repairs of the
+vestry&mdash;are they to be reckoned at four and ninepence
+farthing? It is a swindle. I&rsquo;d appeal. I&rsquo;d refuse. You
+made a mistake, sir, let me tell you, in falling into certain
+hands. Yes&mdash;I&rsquo;ll have some goose, thank you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray ate heartily, so did the Reverend
+Desiderius, who had the honeycomb cells of his stomach
+coats to fill.</p>
+
+<p>Both, moreover, did justice to Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s wine, they
+did not spare it; why should they? Those for whom the
+board was spread had not troubled to come to it, and
+they must make amends for their neglect.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Horrible weather,&rdquo; said the rector. &ldquo;I suppose this
+detestable sort of stuff of which the atmosphere is composed
+is the prevailing abomination one has to inhale
+throughout three-quarters of the year. One cannot see
+three yards before one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s bad for some and good for others,&rdquo; answered
+Scantlebray. &ldquo;There&rsquo;ll be wrecks, certainly, after this,
+especially if we get, as we are pretty sure to get, a wind
+ashore.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wrecks!&rdquo; exclaimed the Rector, &ldquo;and pray who pays
+the fees for drowned men I may be expected to bury?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The parish,&rdquo; answered Uncle Zachie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, half-a-crown a head,&rdquo; said Mr. Mules, contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are other things to be had besides burial fees
+out of a wreck,&rdquo; said Scantlebray; &ldquo;but you must be
+down early before the coast-guard are there. Have you
+donkeys?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Donkeys! What for?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have one, a gray beauty,&rdquo; exclaimed Jamie; &ldquo;Captain
+Coppinger gave her to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, young man, then you pick up what you can,
+when you have the chance, and lade her with your findings.
+You&rsquo;ll pick up something better than corpses,
+and make something more than burial half-crowns.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But why do you suppose there will be wrecks?&rdquo; inquired
+the rector of St. Enodoc. &ldquo;There is no storm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No storm, certainly, but there is fog, and in the fog
+vessels coming up the Channel to Bristol get lost as to
+their bearings, get near our cliffs without knowing it,
+and then&mdash;if a wind from the west spring up and blows
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>255]</a></span>
+rough&mdash;they are done for, they can&rsquo;t escape to the open.
+That&rsquo;s it, old man. I beg your Reverence&rsquo;s pardon, I
+mean, sir. When I said that such weather was bad for
+some and good for others you can understand me now&mdash;bad
+for the wrecked, good for the wreckers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But surely you have no wreckers here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray laughed. &ldquo;Go and tell the bridegroom
+that you think so. I&rsquo;ll let you into the knowledge
+of one thing&rdquo;&mdash;he winked over his glass&mdash;&ldquo;there&rsquo;s
+a fine merchantman on her way to Bristol.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Know! Because she was sighted off St. Ives, and the
+tidings has run up the coast like fire among heather. I
+don&rsquo;t doubt it that it has reached Hartland by this; and
+with a thick fog like to-day there are a thousand hearts
+beating with expectation. Who can say? She may be
+laden with gold-dust from Africa, or with tin from Barca,
+or with port from Oporto.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My boy Oliver is coming home,&rdquo; said Mr. Menaida.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then let&rsquo;s hope he is not in this vessel, for, old man,
+she stands a bad chance in such weather as this. There
+is Porth-quin, and there is Hayle Bay ready to receive
+her, or Doom Bar on which she may run, all handy for
+our people. Are you anything of a sportsman, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A little&mdash;but I don&rsquo;t fancy there is much in this
+precious country&mdash;no cover.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is fox-hunting when you come to consider&mdash;or
+going after a snipe or a partridge? A fox! it&rsquo;s naught,
+the brush stinks, and a snipe is but a mouthful. My
+dear sir, if you come to live among us, you must seek your
+sport not on the land but at sea. You&rsquo;ll find the sport
+worth something when you get a haul of a barrel of first-rate
+sherry, or a load of silver ingots. Why, that&rsquo;s how
+Penwarden bought his farm. He got the money after a
+storm&mdash;found it on the shore out of the pocket of a dead
+man. Do you know why the bells of St. Enodoc are so
+sweet? Because, so folks say, melted into them are ingots
+of Peruvian silver from a ship wrecked on Doom
+Bar.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to get some silver or gold,&rdquo; said
+Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I daresay you would, and so perhaps you may if you
+look out for it. Go to your good friend, Captain Coppinger,
+and tell him what you want. He has made his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>256]</a></span>
+pickings before now on shore and off wrecks, and has
+not given up the practice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Mr. Mules, &ldquo;do you mean to tell me that
+you people in this benighted corner of the world live
+like sharks, upon whatever is cast overboard?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I do not,&rdquo; answered Scantlebray. &ldquo;We have too
+much energy and intelligence for that. We don&rsquo;t always
+wait till it is cast overboard, we go aboard and take what
+we want.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, steal!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t call that stealing when Providence and a southwest
+wind throws a ship into our laps, when we put in
+our fingers and pick out the articles we want. What are
+Porth-quin and Hayle Bay but our laps, in which lie the
+wrecks heaven sends us? And Doom Bar, what is that
+but a counter on which the good things are spread, and
+those first there get the first share?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And pray,&rdquo; said Mr. Desiderius Mules, &ldquo;have the
+owners of the vessels, the passengers, the captains, no
+objections to make?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are not there. Don&rsquo;t wait for our people. If
+they do&mdash;so much the worse for them.&rdquo; Then Scantlebray
+laughed. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a good story told of the Zenobia,
+lost four years ago. There was a lady on board. When
+she knew the vessel was on Doom Bar she put on all her
+jewelry, to escape with it. But some of our people got
+to the wreck before she got off it, and one lobe of her
+ears got torn off.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Torn off?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;in pulling the earrings off her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But who pulled the earrings off her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Our people.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gracious heavens! Were they not brought to justice?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who did it? no one knew. What became of the
+jewelry? no one knew. All that was known was that
+Lady Knighton&mdash;that was her name&mdash;lost her diamonds
+and the lobe of her right ear as well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And it was never recovered?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What! the lobe of her ear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, the jewelry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Upon my word I have got among a parcel of scoundrels.
+It is high time that I should come and reform
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>257]</a></span>
+them. I&rsquo;ll set to work at once. I&rsquo;ll have St. Enodoc dug
+out and restored, and I&rsquo;ll soon put an end to this sort of
+thing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You think so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know me. I&rsquo;ll have a bazaar. I&rsquo;ll have a
+ball in the Assembly Rooms at Wadebridge. The church
+shall be excavated. I&rsquo;m not going in there again with
+the bats, to have my boots filled with sand, I can tell you&mdash;everything
+shall be renovated and put to rights. I&rsquo;ll
+see to it at once. I&rsquo;ll have a pigeon shooting for the sake
+of my chancel&mdash;I daresay I shall raise twenty pounds by
+that alone&mdash;and a raffle for the font, and an Aunt Sally
+for the pulpit. But the ball will be the main thing, I&rsquo;ll
+send and get the county people to patronize. I&rsquo;ll do it,
+and you barbarians in this benighted corner of the world
+shall see there is a man of energy among you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d best try your hand on a wreck. You&rsquo;ll get
+more off that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I&rsquo;ll have a bran pie for an altar-table.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You won&rsquo;t get the parishioners to do anything for
+the restoration of the church. They don&rsquo;t want to have
+it restored.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Decalogue is rotten. I ran my umbrella through
+the Ten Commandments this morning. I&rsquo;ll have a gypsy
+camp and fortune-telling to furnish me with new Commandments.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve heard tell,&rdquo; said Scantlebray, &ldquo;that at Ponghill,
+near Stratton, is a four-post bed of pure gold came off a
+wreck in Bude Bay.&rdquo;<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></p>
+
+<div class="footnote">
+<p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a>
+An exaggeration. The bed of seventeenth century Italian work,
+is gilt. It is now in a small farmhouse.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I was in the North,&rdquo; said the rector of St. Enodoc,
+&ldquo;we had a savage who bit off the heads of rats, snap,
+skinned them and ate them raw, and charged sixpence
+entrance; but that was for the missionaries. I should
+hardly advocate that for the restoration of a church; besides,
+where is the savage to be got? We made twenty-seven
+pounds by that man, but expenses were heavy and
+swallowed up twenty-five; we sent two pounds to the
+missionaries.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida stood up and went to the window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe the wind has shifted to the north, and we
+shall have a lightening of the fog after sunset.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>258]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Shall we not have a wreck! I hope there&rsquo;ll be one,&rdquo;
+said Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the law about wreckage, Menaida, old man?&rdquo;
+asked Scantlebray, also coming to the window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The law is plain enough. No one has a right to
+goods come to land; he who finds may claim salvage&mdash;naught
+else; and any persons taking goods cast ashore,
+which are not legal wreck, may be punished.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And,&rdquo; said Scantlebray, &ldquo;what if certain persons
+give occasion to a ship being wrecked, and then plundering
+the wreck?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There the law is also plain. The invading and robbing
+of a vessel, either in distress or wrecked, and the
+putting forth of false lights in order to bring a vessel
+into danger, are capital felonies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Scantlebray went to the table, took up a napkin,
+twisted it and then flung it round his neck, and hung
+his head on one side.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&mdash;this, Menaida, old man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zachie nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come here, Jim, my boy, a word with you outside.&rdquo;
+Scantlebray led Jamie into the road. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s been a
+shilling owing you for some time. We had roaring fun
+about it once. Here it is. Now listen to me. Go to
+Pentyre, you want to find gold-dust on the shore, don&rsquo;t
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Or bars of silver?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, beg Captain Coppinger, if he is going to have
+a Jack o&rsquo; Lantern to-night, to let you be the Jack. Do
+you understand? and mind&mdash;not a word about me. Then
+gold-dust and bars of silver and purses of shillings.
+Mind you ask to be Jack o&rsquo; Lantern. It is fun. Such
+fun. Roaring fun.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>259]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXV.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">JACK O&rsquo; LANTERN.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Evening closed in; Judith had been left entirely to
+herself. She sat in the window, looking out into the
+mist and watching the failing of the light. Sometimes
+she opened the casement and allowed the vapor to blow
+in like cold steam, then became chilled, shivered, and
+closed it again. The wind was rising and piped about
+the house, piped at her window. Judith, sitting there,
+tried with her hand to find the crevice through which
+the blast drove, and then amused herself with playing
+with her finger-tops on the openings and regulating the
+whistle so as to form a tune. She heard frequently Coppinger&rsquo;s
+voice in conversation, sometimes in the hall,
+sometimes in the court-yard, but could not catch what
+was spoken. She listened, with childish curiosity,
+to the voice that was now that of her lord and husband,
+and endeavored to riddle out of it some answer
+to her questions as to what sort of a master he
+would prove. She could not comprehend him. She
+had heard stories told of him that made her deem
+him the worst of men, remorseless and regardless of
+others, yet toward her he had proved gentle and considerate.
+What, for instance, could be more delicate
+and thoughtful than his behavior to her at this
+very time! Feeling that she had married him with reluctance,
+he had kept away from her and suffered her to
+recover her composure without affording her additional
+struggle. A reaction after the strain on her nerves set
+in; the step she had dreaded had been taken, and she
+was the wife of the man she feared and did not love.
+The suspense of expectation was exchanged for the
+calmer grief of retrospect.</p>
+
+<p>The fog all day had been white as wool, and she had
+noticed how parcels of vapor had been caught and entangled
+in the thorn bushes as the fog swept by, very
+much as sheep left flocks of their fleece in the bushes
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>260]</a></span>
+when they broke out of a field. Now that the day set,
+the vapor lost its whiteness and became ash gray, but it
+was not as dense as it had been, or rather it was compacted
+in places into thick masses with clear tracts between.
+The sea was not visible, nor the cliffs, but she
+could distinguish out-buildings, tufts of furze and
+hedges. The wind blew much stronger, and she could
+hear the boom of the waves against the rocks, like the
+throbbing of the unseen heart of the world. It was louder
+than it had been. The sound did not come upon the
+wind, for the fog that muffled all objects from sight,
+muffled also all sounds to the ear, but the boom came
+from the vibration of the land. The sea flung against
+the coast-line shook the rocks, and they quivered for a
+long distance inland, making every wall and tree quiver
+also, and the sound of the sea was heard not through
+the ears but through the soles of the feet.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa came in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I light you a pair of candles, Judith?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thank you, hardly yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And will you not eat?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, presently, when supper is served.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will come down-stairs?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad to hear that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aunt, I thought you were going to Othello Cottage
+the day I came here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger will not suffer me to leave at
+once till you have settled down to your duties as mistress
+of the house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, auntie! I shall never be able to manage this
+large establishment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not! You managed that at the rectory.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, but it was so different.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear papa&rsquo;s requirements were so simple, and so
+few, and there were no men about except old Balhachet,
+and he was a dear, good old humbug. Here, I don&rsquo;t
+know how many men there are, and who belong to the
+house, and who do not. They are in one day and out
+the next&mdash;and then Captain Coppinger is not like my
+own darling papa.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, indeed, he is not. Shall I light the candles? I
+have something to show you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>261]</a></span>
+&ldquo;As you will, aunt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa went into her room and fetched a light,
+and kindled the two candles that stood on Judith&rsquo;s
+dressing-table.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, aunt! not three candles.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not? We shall need light.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But three candles together bring ill-luck; and we
+have had enough already.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pshaw! Don&rsquo;t be a fool. I want light, for I have
+something to show you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She opened a small box and drew forth a brooch and
+earrings that flashed in the rays of the candle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look, child! they are yours. Captain Coppinger has
+given them to you. They are diamonds. See&mdash;a butterfly
+for the breast, and two little butterflies for the ears.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, auntie! not for me. I do not want them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is ungracious. I daresay they cost many hundreds
+of pounds. They are diamonds.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith took the brooch and earrings in her hand; they
+sparkled. The diamonds were far from being brilliants,
+they were of good size and purest water.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I really do not want to have them. Persuade Captain
+Coppinger to return them to the jeweller, it is far
+too costly a gift for me, far&mdash;far&mdash;I should be happier
+without them.&rdquo; Then, suddenly&mdash;&ldquo;I do not know that
+they have been bought? Oh, Aunt Dunes, tell me truly.
+Have they been bought? I think jewellers always send
+out their goods in leather cases, and there is none such
+for these. And see&mdash;this earring&mdash;the gold is bent, as
+if pulled out of shape. I am sure they have not been
+bought. Take them back again, I pray you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You little fool!&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa, angrily. &ldquo;I will
+do nothing of the kind. If you refuse them&mdash;then take
+them back yourself. Captain Coppinger performs a
+generous and kind act that costs him much money, and
+you throw his gift in his face, you insult him. Insult
+him yourself with your suspicions and refusals&mdash;you
+have already behaved to him outrageously. I will do
+nothing for you that you ask. Your father put on me a
+task that is hateful, and I wish I were clear of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she bounced out of the room, leaving her candle
+burning along with the other two.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later she came back hastily and closed Judith&rsquo;s
+shutters.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>262]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Oh, leave them open,&rdquo; pleaded Judith. &ldquo;I shall like
+to see how the night goes&mdash;if the fog clears away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;I will not,&rdquo; answered Miss Trevisa, roughly.
+&ldquo;And mind you. These shutters remain shut, or your
+candles go out. Your window commands the sea, and
+the light of your window must not show.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because should the fog lift, it would be seen by
+vessels.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why should they not see it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are a fool. Obey, and ask no questions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa put up the bar and then retired with
+her candle, leaving Judith to her own thoughts, with
+the diamonds on the table before her.</p>
+
+<p>And her thoughts were reproachful of herself. She
+was ungracious and perhaps unjust. Her husband had
+sent her a present of rare value, and she was disposed to
+reject it, and charge him with not having come by the
+diamonds honestly. They were not new from a jeweller,
+but what of that? Could he afford to buy her a set at
+the price of some hundreds of pounds? And because he
+had not obtained them from a jeweller, did it follow that
+he had taken them unlawfully? He might have picked
+them up on the shore, or have bought them from a man
+who had. He might have obtained them at a sale in
+the neighborhood. They might be family jewels, that
+had belonged to his mother, and he was showing her
+the highest honor a man could show a woman in asking
+her to wear the ornaments that had belonged to his
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>He had exhibited to her a store-room full of beautiful
+things, but these might be legitimately his, brought
+from foreign countries by his ship the Black Prince. It
+was possible that they were not contraband articles.</p>
+
+<p>Judith opened her door and went down-stairs. In the
+hall she found Coppinger with two or three men, but
+the moment he saw her he started up, came to meet her,
+and drew her aside into a parlor, then went back into
+the hall and fetched candles. A fire was burning in
+this room, ready for her, should she condescend to use it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope I have not interrupted you,&rdquo; she said, timidly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;An agreeable interruption. At any time you have
+only to show yourself and I will at once come to you,
+and never ask to be dismissed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>263]</a></span>
+She knew that this was no empty compliment, that
+he meant it from the depth of his heart, and was sorry
+that she could not respond to an affection so deep and
+so sincere.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have been very good to me&mdash;more good than I
+deserve,&rdquo; she said, standing by the fire with lowered
+eyes, &ldquo;I must thank you now for a splendid and beautiful
+present, and I really do not know how to find words
+in which fittingly to acknowledge it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You cannot thank and gratify me better than by
+wearing what I have given you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But when? Surely not on an ordinary evening?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;certainly. The Rector has been up this afternoon
+and desired to see you, he is hot on a scheme for a
+public ball to be given at Wadebridge for the restoration
+of his church, and he has asked that you will be a patroness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;oh&mdash;I!&mdash;after my father&rsquo;s death?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was in the late spring, and now it is the early
+winter, besides, now you are a married lady&mdash;and was
+not the digging out and restoring of the church your
+father&rsquo;s strong desire?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;but he would never have had a ball for such a
+purpose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The money must be raised somehow. So I promised
+for you. You could not well refuse&mdash;he was impatient
+to be off to Wadebridge and secure the assembly
+rooms.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;Captain Coppinger&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith colored. &ldquo;I beg your pardon&mdash;I forgot. And
+now&mdash;I do not recollect what I was going to say. It
+matters nothing. If you wish me to go I will go. If
+you wish me to wear diamond butterflies I will wear
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thank you.&rdquo; He held out his hands to her.</p>
+
+<p>She drew back slightly and folded her palms as though
+praying. &ldquo;I will do much to please you, but do not
+press me too greatly. I am strange in this house,
+strange in my new situation; give me time to breathe
+and look round and recover my confidence. Besides, we
+are only half-married so far.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have not signed the register.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>264]</a></span>
+&ldquo;No, but that shall be done to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, to-morrow&mdash;but that gives me breathing time.
+You will be patient and forbearing with me.&rdquo; She put
+forward her hands folded and he put his outside them
+and pressed them. The flicker of the fire lent a little
+color to her cheeks and surrounded her head with an
+aureole of spun gold.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith, I will do anything you ask. I love you with
+all my soul, past speaking. I am your slave. But do
+not hold me too long in chains, do not tread me too
+ruthlessly under foot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me time,&rdquo; she pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will give you a little time,&rdquo; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>Then she withdrew her hands from between his and
+sped up stairs, leaving him looking into the fire with
+troubled face.</p>
+
+<p>When she returned to her room the candles were
+still burning, and the diamonds lay on the dressing-table
+where she had left them. She took the brooch and
+earrings to return them to their box, and then noticed for
+the first time that they were wrapped in paper, not in
+cotton-wool. She tapped at her aunt&rsquo;s door, and entering
+asked if she had any cotton-wool that she could spare
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I have not. What do you want it for?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For the jewelry. It cannot have come from a shop,
+as it was wrapped in paper only.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It will take no hurt. Wrap it in paper again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had rather not, auntie. Besides, I have some cotton-wool
+in my workbox.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then use it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But my workbox has not been brought here. It is
+at Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can fetch it to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I am lost without my needles and thread. Besides,
+I do not like to leave my workbox about. I will
+go for it. The walk will do me good.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense, it is falling dark.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will get Uncle Zachie to walk back with me. I
+must have my workbox. Besides, the fresh air will do
+me good, and the fog has lifted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As you will, then.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Judith put on her cloak and drew a hood over
+her head and went back to Polzeath. She knew the way
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>265]</a></span>
+perfectly, there was no danger, night had not closed in.
+It would be a pleasure to her to see the old bird-stuffer&rsquo;s
+face again, and she wanted to find Jamie. She had not
+seen him nor heard his voice, and she supposed he must
+be at Polzeath.</p>
+
+<p>On her arrival at the double cottage, the old fellow
+was delighted to see her, and to see that she had recovered
+from the distress and faintness of the morning sufficiently
+to be able to walk back to his house from her
+new home. Her first question was after Jamie. Uncle
+Zachie told her that Jamie had breakfasted at his table,
+but he had gone away in the afternoon and he had seen
+no more of him. The fire was lighted, and Uncle Zachie
+insisted on Judith sitting by it with him and talking
+over the events of the day, and on telling him that she
+was content with her position, reconciled to the change
+of her state.</p>
+
+<p>She sat longer with him than she had intended, listening
+to his disconnected chatter, and then nothing would
+suffice him but she must sit at the piano and play
+through his favorite pieces.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Remember, Judith, it is the last time I shall have you
+here to give me this pleasure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She could not refuse him his request, especially as he
+was to walk back to Pentyre with her. Thus time passed,
+and it was with alarm and self-reproach that she started
+up on hearing the clock strike the half-past, and learned
+that it was half-past nine, and not half-past eight, as she
+supposed.</p>
+
+<p>As she now insisted on departing, Mr. Menaida put on
+his hat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall we take a light?&rdquo; he asked, and then said: &ldquo;No,
+we had better not. On such a night as this a moving
+light is dangerous.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How can it be dangerous?&rdquo; asked Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not to us, my dear child, but to ships at sea. A stationary
+light might serve as a warning, but a moving
+light misleads. The captain of a vessel, if he has lost his
+bearings, as is like enough in the fog, as soon as the mist
+rises, would see a light gliding along and think it was
+that of a vessel at sea, and so make in the direction of the
+light in the belief that there was open water, and so run
+directly on his destruction.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no, no, Uncle, we will not take a light.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>266]</a></span>
+Mr. Menaida and Judith went out together, she with
+her workbox under her arm, he with his stick, and her
+hand resting on his arm. The night was dark, very dark,
+but the way led for the most part over down, and there
+was just sufficient light in the sky for the road to be distinguishable.
+It would be in the lane, between the walls
+and where overhung by thorns, that the darkness would
+be most profound. The wind was blowing strongly and
+the sound of the breakers came on it now, for the cloud
+had lifted off land and sea, though still hanging low.
+Very dense overhead it could not be, or no light would
+have pierced the vaporous canopy.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zachie and Judith walked on talking together,
+and she felt cheered by his presence, when all at once
+she stopped, pressed his arm, and said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, do look, uncle! What is that light?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In the direction of the cliffs a light was distinctly visible,
+now rising, now falling, observing an unevenly undulating
+motion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, uncle? It is too dreadful. Some foolish person
+is on the downs going home with a lantern, and it may
+lead to a dreadful error, and a wreck.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope to heaven it is only what you say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That it is not done wilfully.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wilfully!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, with the purpose to mislead. Look. The movement
+of the light is exactly that of a ship on a rolling
+sea.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle, let us go there at once and stop it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, my dear; if it be done by some unprincipled
+ruffian he would not be stopped by us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It must be stopped. And, oh, think! you told me that
+your Oliver is coming home. Think of him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We will go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida was drawn along by Judith in her eagerness.
+They left the road to Pentyre, and struck out over
+the downs, keeping their eyes on the light. The distance
+was deceptive. It seemed to have been much nearer than
+they found it actually to be.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look! it is coming back!&rdquo; exclaimed Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it is done wilfully. That is to give the appearance
+of a vessel tacking up Channel. Stay behind, Judith.
+I will go on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>267]</a></span>
+&ldquo;No. I will go with you. You would not find me again
+in the darkness if we parted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The light is coming this way. Stand still. It will
+come directly on us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They drew up. Judith clung to Uncle Zachie&rsquo;s side, her
+heart beating with excitement, indignation, and anger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The lantern is fastened to an ass&rsquo;s head,&rdquo; said Uncle
+Zachie; &ldquo;do you see how as the creature moves his head
+the light is swayed, and that with the rise and fall in the
+land it looks as though the rise and fall were on the sea.
+I have my stick. Stand behind me, Judith.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But a voice was heard that made her gasp and clasp
+the arm of Uncle Zachie the tighter.</p>
+
+<p>Neither spoke.</p>
+
+<p>The light approached. They could distinguish the
+lantern, though they could not see what bore it; only&mdash;next
+moment something caught the light&mdash;the ear of a
+donkey thrust forward.</p>
+
+<p>Again a voice, that of some one urging on the ass.</p>
+
+<p>Judith let go Menaida&rsquo;s arm, sprang forward with a cry:
+&ldquo;Jamie! Jamie! what are you doing!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In a moment she had wrenched the lantern from the
+head of the ass, and the creature, startled, dashed away
+and disappeared in the darkness. Judith put the light
+under her cloak.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Jamie! Jamie! Why have you done this! Who
+ever set you to this wicked task?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am Jack o&rsquo; Lantern,&rdquo; answered the boy. &ldquo;Ju! now
+my Neddy is gone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie, who sent you out to do this? Answer me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith walked on in silence. Neither she nor Uncle
+Zachie spoke, only Jamie whimpered and muttered.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly they were surrounded, and a harsh voice
+exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the king&rsquo;s name. We have you now&mdash;showing
+false lights.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith hastily slung the lantern from beneath her
+cloak, and saw that there were several men about her,
+and that the speaker was Mr. Scantlebray.</p>
+
+<p>The latter was surprised when he recognized her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I did not expect this&mdash;pretty
+quickly into your apprenticeship. What brings you
+here! And you, too, Menaida, old man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>268]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Nothing simpler,&rdquo; answered Uncle Zachie. &ldquo;I am
+accompanying Mrs. Coppinger back to the Glaze.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, married in the morning and roving the downs
+at night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been to Polzeath after my workbox&mdash;here it
+is,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you are out of your road to Pentyre&mdash;I suppose
+you know that,&rdquo; sneered Scantlebray.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Naturally,&rdquo; replied Mr. Menaida. &ldquo;It is dark enough
+for any one to stray. Why! you don&rsquo;t suspect me, do
+you, of showing false lights and endeavoring to wreck
+vessels! That would be too good a joke&mdash;and the
+offence, as I told you&mdash;capital.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Scantlebray uttered an oath and turned to the men
+and said: &ldquo;Captain Cruel is too deep for us this time.
+I thought he had sent the boy out with the ass&mdash;instead
+he has sent his wife&mdash;a wife of a few hours, and never
+told her the mischief she was to do with the lantern&mdash;hark!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>From the sea the boom of a gun.</p>
+
+<p>All stood still as if rooted to the spot.</p>
+
+<p>Then again the boom of a gun.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is a wreck!&rdquo; exclaimed Scantlebray. &ldquo;I
+thought so&mdash;and you, Mistress Orphing, you&rsquo;re guilty.&rdquo;
+He turned to the men. &ldquo;We can make nothing of this
+affair with the lantern. Let us catch the sea-wolves falling
+on their prey.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>269]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">THE SEA-WOLVES.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>On the Doom Bar.</p>
+
+<p>That very merchantman was wrecked, over which so
+many Cornish mouths had watered, ay, and Devonian
+mouths also, from the moment she had been sighted at
+St. Ives.</p>
+
+<p>She had been entangled in the fog, not knowing where
+she was, all her bearings lost. The wind had risen, and
+when the day darkened into night the mist had lifted in
+cruel kindness to show a false glimmer, that was at once
+taken as the light of a ship beating up the Channel.
+The head of the merchantman was put about, a half-reefed
+topsail spread, and she ran on her destruction.
+With a crash she was on the bar. The great bowlers
+that roll without a break from Labrador rushed on
+behind, beat her, hammered her farther and farther into
+the sand, surged up at each stroke, swept the decks with
+mingled foam and water and spray.</p>
+
+<p>The main-mast went down with a snap. Bent with
+the sail, at the jerk, as the vessel ran aground, it broke
+and came down&mdash;top-mast, rigging, and sail, in an enveloping,
+draggled mass. From that moment the captain&rsquo;s
+voice was no more heard. Had he been struck by the
+falling mast and stunned or beaten overboard? or did
+he lie on deck enveloped and smothered in wet sail, or
+had he been caught and strangled by the cordage? None
+knew, none inquired. A wild panic seized crew and
+passengers alike. The chief mate had the presence of
+mind to order the discharge of signals of distress&mdash;but
+the order was imperfectly carried out. A flash, illuminating
+for a second the glittering froth and heaving sea,
+then a boom&mdash;almost stunned by the roar of the sea, and
+the screams of women and oaths of sailors, and then
+panic laid hold of the gunner also and he deserted his
+post.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>270]</a></span>
+The word had gone round, none knew from whom, that
+the vessel had been lured to her destruction by wreckers,
+and that in a few minutes she would be boarded by these
+wolves of the sea. The captain, who should have kept
+order, had disappeared, the mate was disregarded, there
+was a general <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sauve qui peut</i>. A few women were on
+board. At the shock they had come on deck, some with
+children, and the latter were wailing and shrieking with
+terror. The women implored that they might be saved.
+Men passengers ran about asking what was to be done,
+and were beaten aside and cursed by the frantic sailors.
+A Portuguese nun was ill with sea-sickness, and sank on
+the deck like a log, crying to St. Joseph between her
+paroxysms. One man alone seemed to maintain his self-possession,
+a young man, and he did his utmost to soothe
+the excited women and abate their terrors. He raised
+the prostrate nun and insisted on her laying hold of a
+rope, lest in the swash of the water she should be carried
+overboard. He entreated the mate to exert his authority
+and bring the sailors to a sense of their duty, to save
+the women instead of escaping in the boat, regardful of
+themselves only.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a steady star, red in color, glared out of the
+darkness, and between it and the wreck heaved and
+tossed a welter of waves and foam.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is land,&rdquo; shouted the mate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And that shines just where that light was that led
+us here,&rdquo; retorted a sailor.</p>
+
+<p>The vessel heeled to one side, and shipped water fore
+and aft, over either rail, with a hiss and heave. She
+plunged, staggered, and sank deeper into the sand.</p>
+
+<p>A boat had been lowered and three men were in it,
+and called to the women to be sharp and join them.
+But this was no easy matter, for the boat at one moment
+leaped up on the comb of a black wave, and then sank in
+its yawning trough, now was close to the side of the
+ship, and then separated from it by a rift of water. The
+frightened women were let down by ropes, but in their
+bewilderment missed their opportunity when the boat
+was under them, and some fell into the water, and had
+to be dragged out, others refused to leave the wreck and
+risk a leap into the little boat. Nothing would induce
+the sick nun to venture overboard. She could not understand
+English; the young passenger addressed her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>271]</a></span>
+in Portuguese, and finally, losing all patience and finding
+that precious time was wasted in arguing with a poor
+creature incapable of reasoning in her present condition,
+he ordered a sailor to help him, caught her up in
+his arms, and proceeded to swing himself over, that he
+might carry her into the boat.</p>
+
+<p>But at that moment dark figures occupied the deck,
+and a man arrested him with his hand, while in a loud
+and authoritative voice he called, &ldquo;No one leaves the
+vessel without my orders. Number Five, down into the
+boat and secure that. Number Seven, go with him.
+Now, one by one, and before each leaves, give over your
+purses and valuables that you are trying to save. No
+harm shall be done you, only make no resistance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The ship was in the hands of the wreckers.</p>
+
+<p>The men in the boat would have cast off at once, but
+the two men sent into it, Numbers Five and Seven, prevented
+them. The presence of the wreckers produced
+order where there had been confusion before. The man
+who had laid his hand on the Portuguese nun, and had
+given orders, was obeyed not only by his own men, but
+by the crew of the merchant vessel, and by the passengers,
+from whom all thoughts of resistance, if they ever
+rose, vanished at once. All alike, cowed and docile,
+obeyed without a murmur, and began to produce from
+their pockets whatever they had secured and hoped to
+carry ashore with them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nudding! me nudding!&rdquo; gasped the nun.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let her pass down,&rdquo; ordered the man who acted as
+captain. &ldquo;Now the next&mdash;you!&rdquo; he turned on the young
+passenger who had assisted the nun.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You scoundrel,&rdquo; shouted the young man, &ldquo;you shall
+not have a penny of mine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We shall see,&rdquo; answered the wrecker, and levelled
+a pistol at his head. &ldquo;What answer do you make to
+this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The young man struck up the pistol, and it was discharged
+into the air. Then he sprang on the captain,
+struck him in the chest, and grappled with him. In a
+moment a furious contest was engaged in between the
+two on the wet, sloping deck, sloping, for the cargo had
+shifted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hah!&rdquo; shouted the wrecker, &ldquo;a Cornishman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, a Cornishman,&rdquo; answered the youth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>272]</a></span>
+The wrecker knew whence he came by his method of
+wrestling.</p>
+
+<p>If there had been light, crew, invaders, and passengers
+would have gathered in a circle and watched the contest;
+but in the dark, lashed by foam, in the roar of the waves
+and the pipe of the wind, only one or two that were
+near were aware of the conflict. Some of the crew were
+below. They had got at the spirits and were drinking.
+One drunken sailor rushed forth swearing and blaspheming
+and striking about him. He was knocked down by
+a wrecker, and a wave that heaved over the deck lifted
+him and swept him over the bulwarks.</p>
+
+<p>The wrestle between the two men in the dark taxed
+the full nerves and the skill of each. The young passenger
+was strong and nimble, but he had found his
+match in the wrecker. The latter was skilful and of
+great muscular power. First one went down on the
+knee, then the other, but each was up again in a moment.
+A blinding whiff of foam and water slashed between
+them, stinging their eyes, swashing into their
+mouths, forcing them momentarily to relax their hold
+of each other, but next moment they had leaped at each
+other again. Now they held each other, breast to breast,
+and sought, with their arms bowed like the legs of grasshoppers,
+to strangle or break each other&rsquo;s necks. Then,
+like a clap of thunder, beat a huge billow against the
+stern, and rolled in a liquid heap over the deck, enveloping
+the wrestlers, and lifted them from their feet
+and cast them, writhing, pounding each other, on the
+deck.</p>
+
+<p>There were screams and gasps from the women as they
+escaped from the water; the nun shrieked to St. Joseph&mdash;she
+had lost her hold and fell overboard, but was
+caught and placed in the boat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now another,&rdquo; was the shout.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hand me your money,&rdquo; demanded one of the
+wreckers. &ldquo;Madam, have no fear. We do not hurt
+women. I will help you into the boat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have nothing&mdash;nothing but this! what shall I do if
+you take my money?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry&mdash;you must either remain and drown when
+the ship breaks up or give me the purse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She gave up the purse and was safely lodged below.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; gasped the captain of the wreckers
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>273]</a></span>
+in a moment of relaxation from the desperate struggle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;An honest man&mdash;and you a villain,&rdquo; retorted the
+young passenger, and the contest was recommenced.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let go,&rdquo; said the wrecker, &ldquo;and you shall be allowed
+to depart&mdash;and carry your money with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I ask no man&rsquo;s leave to carry what is my own,&rdquo; answered
+the youth. He put his hand to his waist and unbuckled
+a belt, to this belt was attached a pouch well
+weighted with metal. &ldquo;There is all I have in the world&mdash;and
+with it I will beat your brains out.&rdquo; He whirled
+the belt and money bag round his head and brought it
+down with a crash upon his adversary, who staggered
+back. The young man struck at him again, but in the
+dark missed him, and with the violence of the blow and
+weight of the purse was carried forward, and on the slippery
+inclined planks fell.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now I have you,&rdquo; shouted the other; he flung himself
+on the prostrate man and planted his knee on his back.
+But, assisted by the inclination of the deck, the young
+man slipped from beneath his antagonist, and half-rising
+caught him and dashed him against the rail.</p>
+
+<p>The wrecker was staggered for a moment, and had the
+passenger seized the occasion he might have finished the
+conflict; but his purse had slipped from his hand, and he
+groped for the belt till he found one end at his feet, and
+now he twisted the belt round and about his right arm
+and weighted his fist with the pouch.</p>
+
+<p>The captain recovered from the blow, and flung himself
+on his adversary, grasped his arms between the shoulder
+and elbow, and bore him back against the bulwark, drove
+him against it, and cast himself upon him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve spared your life so far. Now I&rsquo;ll spare you no
+more,&rdquo; said he, and the young man felt one of his arms
+released. He could not tell at the time, he never could
+decide after how he knew it, but he was certain that his
+enemy was groping at his side for his knife. Then the
+hand of the wrecker closed on his throat, and the young
+man&rsquo;s head was driven back over the rail, almost dislocating
+the neck.</p>
+
+<p>It was then as though the young man saw into the
+mind of him who had cast himself against him, and who
+was strangling him. He knew that he could not find his
+knife, but he saw nothing, only a fire and blood before his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>274]</a></span>
+eyes that looked up into the black heavens, and he felt
+naught save agony at the nape of his neck, where his
+spine was turned back on the bulwarks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Number Seven! any of you! an axe!&rdquo; roared the
+wrecker. &ldquo;By heaven you shall be as Wyvill! and float
+headless on the waves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Coppinger!&rdquo; cried the young man, by a desperate effort
+liberating his hand. He threw his arms round the
+wrecker. A dash and a boil of froth, and both went overboard,
+fighting as they fell into the surf.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the King&rsquo;s name!&rdquo; shouted a harsh voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Surround&mdash;secure them all. Now we have them and
+they shall not escape.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The wreck was boarded by, and in the hands of, the
+coast-guard.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>275]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXVII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">BRUISED NOT BROKEN.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come with me, uncle!&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, I will follow you like a dog, everywhere.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want to go to the rectory.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To the rectory! At this time of night!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When the down was left there was no longer necessity
+for hiding the lantern, as they were within lanes, and
+the light would not be seen at sea.</p>
+
+<p>The distance to the parsonage was not great, and the
+little party were soon there, but were somewhat puzzled
+how to find the door, owing to the radical transformations
+of the approaches effected by the new rector.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Desiderius Mules was not in bed. He was in his
+study, without his collar and necktie, smoking, and composing
+a sermon. It is not only <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">lucus</i> which is derived
+from <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">non lucendo</i>. A study in many a house is equally
+misnamed. In that of Mr. Mules&rsquo;s house it had some
+claim, perhaps, to its title, for in it, once a week, Mr.
+Desiderius cudgelled his brains how to impart form to
+an inchoate mass of notes; but it hardly deserved its
+name as a place where the brain was exercised in absorption
+of information. The present study was the old
+pantry. The old study had been occupied by a man of
+reading and of thought. Perhaps it was not unsuitable
+that the pantry should become Mr. Mules&rsquo;s study, and
+where the maid had emptied her slop-water after cleaning
+forks and plates should be the place for the making
+of the theological slop-water that was to be poured forth
+on the Sunday. But&mdash;what a word has been here used&mdash;theological&mdash;another
+<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">lucus a non lucendo</i>, for there was
+nothing of theology proper in the stuff compounded by
+Mr. Mules.</p>
+
+<p>We shall best be able to judge by observing him engaged
+on his sermon for Sunday.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>276]</a></span>
+In his mouth was a pipe, on the table a jar of bird&rsquo;s-eye;
+<i>item</i>, a tumbler of weak brandy and water to moisten
+his lips with occasionally. It was weak. Mr. Mules
+never took a drop more than was good for him.</p>
+
+<p>Before him were arranged in a circle his materials for
+composition. On his extreme left was what he termed
+his treacle-pot. That was a volume of unctuous piety.
+Then came his dish of flummery. That was a volume of
+ornate discourses by a crack ladies&rsquo; preacher. Next his
+spice-box. That was a little store of anecdotes, illustrations,
+and pungent sayings. Pearson on the Creed,
+Bishop Andrews, or any work of solid divinity was not
+to be found either on his table or on his shelves. A
+Commentary was outspread, and a Concordance.</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend Desiderius Mules sipped his brandy
+and water, took a long whiff of his pipe, and then wrote
+his text. Then he turned to his Commentary and extracted
+from it junks of moralization upon his text and
+on other texts which his Concordance told him had more
+or less to do with his head text. Then he peppered
+his paper well over with quotations, those in six lines
+preferred to those in three.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said the manufacturer of the sermon, &ldquo;I must
+have a little treacle. I suppose those bumpkins will
+like it, but not much, I hate it myself. It is ridiculous.
+And I can dish up a trifle of flummery in here and there
+conveniently, and&mdash;let me see. I&rsquo;ll work up to a story
+near the tail somehow. But what heading shall I give
+my discourse? &rsquo;Pon my word I don&rsquo;t know what its
+subject is&mdash;we&rsquo;ll call it General Piety. That will do admirably.
+Yes, General Piety. Come in! Who&rsquo;s there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A servant entered and said that there were Mr. Menaida
+and the lady that was married that morning, at the
+door, wanting to speak with him. Should she show them
+into the study?</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Mules looked at his brandy and water, then at his
+array of material for composition, and then at his neckerchief
+on the floor, and said: &ldquo;No, into the drawing-room.&rdquo;
+The maid was to light the candles. He would
+put on his collar and be with them shortly.</p>
+
+<p>So the sermon had to be laid aside.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Mr. Desiderius Mules entered his drawing-room,
+where Judith, Uncle Zachie, and Jamie were
+awaiting him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>277]</a></span>
+&ldquo;A late visit, but always welcome,&rdquo; said the rector.
+&ldquo;Sorry I kept you waiting, but I was <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en deshabille</i>. What
+can I do for you now, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith was composed, she had formed her resolution.</p>
+
+<p>She said, &ldquo;You married me this morning when I was
+unconscious. I answered but one of your questions.
+Will you get your prayer-book and I will make my responses
+to all those questions you put to me when I was
+in a dead faint.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, not necessary. Sign the register and it is all
+right. Silence gives consent, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish it otherwise, particularly, and then you can
+judge for yourself whether silence gives consent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Desiderius Mules ran back into his study, pulled
+a whiff at his pipe to prevent the fire from going out,
+moistened his untempered clay with brandy and water,
+and came back again with a Book of Common Prayer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here we are,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;&lsquo;Wilt thou have this man,&rsquo;
+and so on&mdash;you answered to that, I believe. Then comes
+&lsquo;I, Judith, take thee, Curll, to my wedded husband&rsquo;&mdash;you
+were indistinct over that, I believe.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I remember nothing about it. Now I will say distinctly
+my meaning. I will <em>not</em> take Curll Coppinger to
+my wedded husband, and thereto I will never give my
+troth&mdash;so help me, God.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Goodness gracious!&rdquo; exclaimed the rector. &ldquo;You
+put me in a queer position. I married you, and you
+can&rsquo;t undo what is done. You have the ring on your
+finger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, here it is. I return it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I refuse to take it. I have nothing whatever to do
+with the ring. Captain Coppinger put it on your hand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I was unconscious.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But am I to be choused out of my fee&mdash;as out of
+other things!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall have your fee. Do not concern yourself
+about that. I refuse to consider myself married. I refuse
+to sign the register, no man shall force me to it, and
+if it comes to law, here are witnesses, you yourself are a
+witness, that I was unconscious when you married me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall get into trouble! This is a very unpleasant
+state of affairs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is more unpleasant for me than for you,&rdquo; said
+Judith.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>278]</a></span>
+&ldquo;It is a most awkward complication. Never heard of
+such a case before. Don&rsquo;t you think that after a good
+night&rsquo;s rest and a good supper&mdash;and let me advise a stiff
+glass of something warm, taken medicinally, you understand&mdash;that
+you will come round to a better mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To another mind I shall not come round. I suppose
+I am half married&mdash;never by my will shall that half be
+made into a whole.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what do you want me to do?&rdquo; asked Mr. Mules,
+thoroughly put out of his self-possession by this extraordinary
+scene.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; answered Judith, &ldquo;save to bear testimony
+that I utterly and entirely refuse to complete the marriage
+which was half done&mdash;by answering to those questions
+with a consent, which I failed to answer in church
+because I fainted, and to wear the ring which was forced
+on me when I was insensible, and to sign the register
+now I am in full possession of my wits. We will detain
+you no longer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith left along with Jamie and Mr. Menaida, and
+Mr. Mules returned to his sermon. He pulled at his
+pipe till the almost expired fire was rekindled into glow,
+and he mixed himself a little more brandy and water.
+Then with his pipe in the corner of his mouth he looked
+at his discourse. It did not quite please him, it was undigested.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; said Mr. Desiderius. &ldquo;My mind is all
+of a whirl, and I can do nothing to this now. It must
+go as it is&mdash;yet stay, I&rsquo;ll change the title. General
+Piety is rather pointless. I&rsquo;ll call it Practical Piety.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith returned to Pentyre Glaze. She was satisfied
+with what she had done; anger and indignation were in
+her heart. The man to whom she had given her hand
+had enlisted her poor brother in the wicked work of luring
+unfortunate sailors to their destruction. She could
+hardly conceive of anything more diabolical than this
+form of wrecking: her Jamie was involved in the crime
+of drawing men to their death. A ship had been wrecked,
+she knew that by the minute guns, and if lives were lost
+from it, the guilt in a measure rested on the head of
+Jamie. But for her intervention he would have been
+taken in the act of showing light to mislead mariners,
+and would certainly have been brought before magistrates
+and most probably have been imprisoned. The thought
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>279]</a></span>
+that her brother, the son of such a father, should have
+escaped this disgrace through an accident only, and that
+he had been subjected to the risk by Coppinger, filled
+her veins with liquid fire. Thenceforth there could be
+nothing between her and Captain Cruel, save antipathy,
+resentment, and contempt on her part. His passion for
+her must cool or chase itself away. She would never
+yield to him a hair&rsquo;s breadth.</p>
+
+<p>Judith threw herself on her bed, in her clothes. She
+could not sleep. Wrath against Coppinger seethed in
+her young heart. Concerned she was for the wrecked,
+but concern for them was over-lapped by fiery indignation
+against the wrecker. There was also in her breast
+self-reproach. She had not accepted as final her father&rsquo;s
+judgment on the man. She had allowed Coppinger&rsquo;s
+admiration of herself to move her from a position of uncompromising
+hostility, and to awake in her suspicions
+that her dear, dear father might have been mistaken,
+and that the man he condemned might not be guilty as
+he supposed.</p>
+
+<p>As she lay tossing on her bed, turning from side to
+side, her face now flaming, then white, she heard a noise
+in the house. She sat up on her bed and listened.
+There was now no light in the room, and she would not
+go into that of her aunt to borrow one. Miss Trevisa
+might be asleep, and would be vexed to be disturbed.
+Moreover resentment against her aunt for having forced
+her into the marriage was strong in the girl&rsquo;s heart, and
+she had no wish to enter into any communications with
+her.</p>
+
+<p>So she sat on her bed, listening.</p>
+
+<p>There was certainly disturbance below. What was the
+meaning of it?</p>
+
+<p>Presently she heard her aunt&rsquo;s voice down-stairs. She
+was therefore not asleep in her room.</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon Judith descended the stairs to the hall.
+There she found Captain Coppinger being carried to his
+bedroom by two men, while Miss Trevisa held a light.
+He was streaming with water that made pools on the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter? Is he hurt? Is he hurt seriously?&rdquo;
+she asked, her woman&rsquo;s sympathy at once
+aroused by the sight of suffering.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has had a bad fall,&rdquo; replied her aunt. &ldquo;He went
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>280]</a></span>
+to a wreck that has been cast on Doom Bar, to help to
+save the unfortunate, and save what they value equally
+with their lives&mdash;their goods, and he was washed overboard.
+Fell into the sea, and was dashed against that
+boat. Yes&mdash;he is injured. No bones broken <em>this</em> time.
+This time he had to do with the sea and with men. But
+he is badly bruised. Go on,&rdquo; she said to those who were
+conveying Coppinger. &ldquo;He is in pain, do you not see
+this as you stand here? Lay him on his bed, and remove
+his clothes. He is drenched to the skin. I will
+brew him a posset.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I help you, aunt?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can do it myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith remained with Miss Trevisa. She said nothing
+to her till the posset was ready. Then she offered to
+carry it to her husband.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As you will&mdash;here it is,&rdquo; said Aunt Dionysia.</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon Judith took the draught, and went with it
+to Captain Coppinger&rsquo;s room. He was in his bed. No
+one was with him, but a candle burned on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have come to me, Judith?&rdquo; he said with glad
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;I have brought you the posset. Drink it out
+to the last drop.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She handed it to him; and he took the hot caudle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I need not finish the bowl?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;to the last drop.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He complied, and then suddenly withdrew the vessel
+from his lips. &ldquo;What is this&mdash;at the bottom?&mdash;a ring?&rdquo;
+He extracted a plain gold ring from the bowl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the meaning of this? It is a wedding-ring.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;mine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is early to lose it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I threw it in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&mdash;Judith&mdash;why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I return it to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He raised himself on one elbow and looked at her fixedly
+with threatening eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the meaning of this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That ring was put on my finger when I was unconscious.
+Wait till I accept it freely.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;Judith&mdash;the wedding is over.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only a half wedding.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>281]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Well&mdash;well&mdash;it shall soon be a whole one. We will
+have the register signed to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are acting strangely to-night,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Answer me,&rdquo; said Judith. &ldquo;Did you not send out
+Jamie with a light to mislead the sailors, and draw them
+on to Doom Bar?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie, again!&rdquo; exclaimed Coppinger, impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I have to consider for Jamie. Answer me, did
+you not send him&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He burst in angrily, &ldquo;If you will&mdash;yes&mdash;he took the
+light to the shore. I knew there was a wreck. When
+a ship is in distress she must have a light.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are not speaking the truth. Answer me, did
+you go on board the wrecked vessel to save those who
+were cast away?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They would not have been saved without me. They
+had lost their heads&mdash;every one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger,&rdquo; said Judith, &ldquo;I have lost all
+trust in you. I return you the ring which I will never
+wear. I have been to see the rector and told him that I
+refuse you, and I will never sign the register.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will force the ring on to your finger,&rdquo; said Coppinger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are a man, stronger than I&mdash;but I can defend
+myself, as you know to your cost. Half married we are&mdash;and
+so must remain, and never, never shall we be more
+than that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she left the room, and Coppinger dashed his
+posset cup to the ground, but held the ring and turned
+it in his fingers, and the light flickered on it, a red gold
+ring like that red gold hair that was about his throat.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>282]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A CHANGE OF WIND.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>After many years of separation, father and son were
+together once more. Early in the morning after the
+wreck in Dover Bar, Oliver Menaida appeared at his
+father&rsquo;s cottage, bruised and wet through, but in health
+and with his purse in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>When he had gone overboard with the wrecker, the
+tide was falling and he had been left on the sands of the
+Bar, where he had spent a cold and miserable night, with
+only the satisfaction to warm him that his life and his
+money were his. He was not floating, like Wyvill, a
+headless trunk, nor was he without his pouch that contained
+his gold and valuable papers.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida was roused from sleep very early to admit
+Oliver. The young man had recognized where he was,
+as soon as sufficient light was in the sky, and he had
+been carried across the estuary of the Camel by one of
+the boats that was engaged in clearing the wreck, under
+the direction of the captain of the coast-guard. But
+three men had been arrested on the wrecked vessel, three
+of those who had boarded her for plunder, all the rest
+had effected their escape, and it was questionable whether
+these three could be brought to justice, as they protested
+they had come from shore as salvers. They had heard
+the signals of distress and had put off to do what they
+could for those who were in jeopardy. No law forbad
+men coming to the assistance of the wrecked. It could
+not be proved that they had laid their hands on and kept
+for their own use any of the goods of the passengers or
+any of the cargo of the vessel. It was true that from
+some of the women their purses had been exacted, but
+the men taken professed their innocence of having done
+this, and the man who had made the demand&mdash;there was
+but one&mdash;had disappeared. Unhappily he had not been
+secured.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>283]</a></span>
+It was a question also whether proceedings could be
+taken relative to the exhibition of lights that had misguided
+the merchantman. The coast-guard had come on
+Mr. Menaida and Judith on the downs with a light, but
+he was conducting her to her new house, and there could
+be entertained against them no suspicion of having acted
+with evil intent.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know, father,&rdquo; said Oliver, after he was rested,
+had slept and fed, &ldquo;I am pretty sure that the scoundrel
+who attacked me was Captain Coppinger. I cannot
+swear. It is many years now since I heard his voice, and
+when I did hear it, it was but very occasionally. What
+made me suspect at the time that I was struggling with
+Captain Cruel was that he had my head back over the
+gunwale and called for an axe, swearing that he would
+treat me like Wyvill. That story was new when I left
+home, and folk said that Coppinger had killed the man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida fidgeted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was the man who was at the head of the entire
+gang. He it was who issued the orders which the rest
+obeyed; and he, moreover, was the man who required
+the passengers to deliver up their purses and valuables
+before he allowed them to enter the boat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Between ourselves,&rdquo; said Uncle Zachie, rubbing his
+chin and screwing up his mouth, &ldquo;between you and me
+and the poker, I have no doubt about it, and I could
+bring his neck into the halter if I chose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then why do you not, father? The ruffian would not
+have scrupled to hack off my head had an axe been handy,
+or had I waited till he had got hold of one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are a deal of things that belong to all things,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;I was on the down with my little pet and idol,
+Judith, and we had the lantern, and it was that lantern
+that proved fatal to your vessel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, father! We owe our wreck to you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, and yet it must be suffered to be so supposed, I
+must allow many hard words to be rapped out against me,
+my want of consideration, my scatterbrainedness. I admit
+that I am not a Solomon, but I should not be such an
+ass, such a criminal, as on a night like the last to walk
+over the downs above the cliffs with a lantern. Nevertheless
+I cannot clear myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>284]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Because of Judith.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was escorting her home, to her husband&rsquo;s&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is she married?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Pon my word, I can&rsquo;t say; half and half&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not understand you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will explain, later,&rdquo; said Mr. Menaida. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a perplexing
+question, and though I was brought up at the
+law, upon my word I can&rsquo;t say how the law would stand
+in the matter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But how about the false lights?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am coming to that. When the Preventive men came
+on us, led by Scantlebray&mdash;and why he was with them,
+and what concern it was of his, I don&rsquo;t know&mdash;when the
+guard found us, it is true Judith had the lantern, but it
+was under her cloak.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We, however, saw the light for some time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, but neither she nor I showed it. We had not
+brought a light with us. We knew that it would be wrong
+to do so, but we came on someone driving an ass with a
+lantern affixed to the head of the brute.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then say so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot&mdash;that person was Judith&rsquo;s brother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But he is an idiot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was sent out with the light.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, that person who sent him will be punished
+and the silly boy will come off scot free.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot&mdash;he who sent the boy was Judith&rsquo;s husband.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith&rsquo;s husband! Who is that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what of that? The man is a double-dyed villain.
+He ought to be brought to justice. Consider the
+crimes of which he has been guilty. Consider what he
+has done this past night. I cannot see, father, that merely
+because you esteem a young person, who may be very
+estimable, we should let a consummate scoundrel go free,
+solely because he is her husband. He has brought a fine
+ship to wreck, he has produced much wretchedness and
+alarm. Indeed, he has been the occasion of some lives
+being lost, for one or two of the sailors, thinking we were
+going to Davy Jones&rsquo;s locker, got drunk and were carried
+overboard. Then, consider, he robbed some of the
+unhappy, frightened women as they were escaping.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>285]</a></span>
+Bless me!&rdquo; Oliver sprang up and paced the room. &ldquo;It
+makes my blood seethe. The fellow deserves no consideration.
+Give him up to justice; let him be hung or
+transported.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida passed his hand through his hair, and lit
+his pipe.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Pon my word,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s a good deal to be
+said on your side&mdash;and yet&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is everything to be said on my side,&rdquo; urged
+Oliver, with vehemence. &ldquo;The man is engaged on his
+nefarious traffic. Winter is setting in. He will wreck
+other vessels as well, and if you spare him now, then the
+guilt of causing the destruction of other vessels and the
+loss of more lives will rest in a measure on you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; pleaded Menaida, senior, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know&mdash;I
+don&rsquo;t like&mdash;you see&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are moved by a little sentiment for Miss Judith
+Trevisa, or&mdash;I beg her pardon&mdash;Mrs. Cruel Coppinger.
+But it is a mistake, father. If you had had this sentimental
+regard for her, and value for her, you should not
+have suffered her to marry such a scoundrel, past redemption.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I could not help it. I told her that the man was
+bad&mdash;that is to say&mdash;I believed he was a smuggler, and
+that he was generally credited with being a wrecker as
+well. But there were other influences&mdash;other forces at
+work&mdash;I could not help it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The sooner we can rid her of this villain the better,&rdquo;
+persisted Oliver. &ldquo;I cannot share your scruples,
+father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the door opened and Judith entered.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver stood up. He had reseated himself on the opposite
+side of the fire to his father, after the ebullition
+of wrath that had made him pace the room.</p>
+
+<p>He saw before him a delicate, girlish figure&mdash;a child
+in size and in innocence of face, but with a woman&rsquo;s
+force of character in the brow, clear eyes, and set mouth.
+She was ivory white; her golden hair was spread out
+about her face&mdash;blown by the wind, it was a veritable
+halo, such as is worn by an angel of La Fiesole in Cimabue.
+Her long, slender, white throat was bare; she had
+short sleeves, to the elbows, and bare arms. Her stockings
+were white, under the dark-blue gown. Oliver
+Menaida had spent a good many years in Portugal, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>286]</a></span>
+had seen flat faces, sallow complexions, and dark hair&mdash;women
+without delicacy of bone and grace of figure&mdash;and,
+on his return to England, the first woman he saw
+was Judith&mdash;this little, pale, red-gold-headed creature,
+with eyes iridescent and full of a soul that made them
+sparkle and change color with every change of emotion
+in the heart and of thought in the busy brain.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver was a fine man, tall, with a bright and honest
+face, fair hair, and blue eyes. He started back from his
+seat and looked at this child-bride who entered his
+father&rsquo;s cottage. He knew at once who she was, from
+the descriptions he had received of her from his father
+in letters from home.</p>
+
+<p>He did not understand how she had become the wife
+of Cruel Coppinger. He had not heard the story from
+his father, still less could he comprehend the enigmatical
+words of his father relative to her half-and-half marriage.
+As now he looked on this little figure, that
+breathed an atmosphere of perfect purity, of untouched
+innocence, and yet not mixed with that weakness which
+so often characterizes innocence&mdash;on the contrary blended
+with a strength and force beyond her years&mdash;Oliver&rsquo;s
+heart rose with a bound and smote against his ribs. He
+was overcome with a qualm of infinite pity for this poor,
+little, fragile being, whose life was linked with that of
+one so ruthless as Coppinger. Looking at that anxious
+face, at those lustrous eyes, set in lids that were reddened
+with weeping, he knew that the iron had entered
+into her soul, that she had suffered and was suffering
+then; nay, more, that the life opening before her
+would be one of almost unrelieved contrariety and sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>At once he understood his father&rsquo;s hesitation when he
+urged him to increase the load of shame and trouble
+that lay on her. He could not withdraw his eyes from
+Judith. She was to him a vision so wonderful, so
+strange, so thrilling, so full of appeal to his admiration
+and to his chivalry.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here, Ju! here is my Oliver, of whom I have told
+you so much!&rdquo; said Menaida, running up to Judith.
+&ldquo;Oliver, boy! she has read your letters, and I believe
+they gave her almost as great pleasure as they did
+me. She was always interested in you. I mean ever
+since she came into my house, and we have talked
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>287]</a></span>
+together about you, and upon my word it really seemed as
+if you were to her as a brother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A faint smile came on Judith&rsquo;s face; she held out her
+hand and said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I have come to love your dear father, who has
+been to me so kind, and to Jamie also; he has been full
+of thought&mdash;I mean kindness. What has interested him
+has interested me. I call him uncle, so I will call you
+cousin. May it be so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He touched her hand; he did not dare to grasp the
+frail, slender white hand. But as he touched it, there
+boiled up in his heart a rage against Coppinger, that he&mdash;this
+man steeped in iniquity&mdash;should have obtained
+possession of a pearl set in ruddy gold&mdash;a pearl that he
+was, so thought Oliver, incapable of appreciating.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How came you here?&rdquo; asked Judith. &ldquo;Your father
+has been expecting you some time, but not so soon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am come off the wreck.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She started back and looked fixedly on him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&mdash;you were wrecked?&mdash;in that ship last night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. After the fog lifted we were quite lost as to
+where we were, and ran aground.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What led you astray?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Our own bewilderment and ignorance as to where
+we were.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you got ashore?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I was put across by the Preventive men. I
+spent half the night on Doom Bar.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Were any lives lost?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only those lost their lives who threw them away.
+Some tipsy sailors, who got at the spirits, and drank
+themselves drunk.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And&mdash;did any others&mdash;I mean did any wreckers come
+to your ship?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Salvors? Yes; salvors came to save what could be
+saved. That is always so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith drew a long breath of relief; but she could not
+forget Jamie and the ass.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You were not led astray by false lights?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Any lights we might have seen were sure to lead us
+astray, as we did not in the least know where we were.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Judith. Then she turned to Uncle
+Zachie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have a favor to ask of you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>288]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Anything you ask I will do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is to let Jamie live here, he is more likely to be
+well employed, less likely to get in wrong courses, than
+at the Glaze. Alas! I cannot be with him always and
+everywhere, and I cannot trust him there. Here he has
+his occupation; he can help you with the birds. There
+he has nothing, and the men he meets are not such as I
+desire that he should associate with. Besides, you know,
+uncle, what occurred last night, and why I am anxious to
+get him away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered the old man; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do my best. He
+shall be welcome here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Moreover, Captain Coppinger dislikes him. He
+might in a fit of anger maltreat him; I cannot say
+that he <em>would</em>, but he makes no concealment of his dislike.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Send Jamie here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And then I can come every day and see him, how he
+is getting on, and can encourage him with his work, and
+give him his lessons as usual.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It will always be a delight to me to have you here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And to me&mdash;to come.&rdquo; She might have said, &ldquo;to be
+away from Pentyre,&rdquo; but she refrained from saying that.
+With a faint smile&mdash;a smile that was but the twinkle of
+a tear&mdash;she held out her hand to say farewell.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zachie clasped it, and then, suddenly, she bent
+and kissed his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must not do that,&rdquo; said he, hastily.</p>
+
+<p>She looked piteously into his eyes, and said, in a
+whisper that he alone could hear&mdash;&ldquo;I am so lonely.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When she was gone the old man returned to the ingle
+nook and resumed his pipe. He did not speak, but
+every now and then he put one finger furtively to his
+cheek, wiped off something, and drew very vigorous
+whiffs of tobacco.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was Oliver inclined to speak; he gazed dreamily
+into the fire, with contracted brows, and hands that were
+clenched.</p>
+
+<p>A quarter of an hour thus passed. Then Oliver looked
+up at his father, and said: &ldquo;There is worse wrecking
+than that of ships. Can nothing be done for this poor
+little craft, drifting in fog&mdash;aimless!&mdash;and going on to
+the rocks?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zachie again wiped his cheek, and in his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>289]</a></span>
+thoughtlessness wiped it with the bowl of his pipe and
+burnt himself. He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now tell me what you meant when you said she was
+but half married,&rdquo; said Oliver.</p>
+
+<p>Then his father related to him the circumstances of
+Judith&rsquo;s forced engagement, and of the incomplete marriage
+of the day before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By my soul!&rdquo; exclaimed Oliver. &ldquo;He must&mdash;he shall
+not treat her as he did our vessel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Oliver! if I had had my way&mdash;I had designed
+her for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver bent his head and looked hard into the fire,
+where strange forms of light were dancing&mdash;dancing and
+disappearing.</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Menaida said, between his whiffs: &ldquo;Surely
+a change of wind, Oliver. A little while ago, and she
+was not to be considered; justice above all, and Judith
+sacrificed, if need be&mdash;now it is Judith above all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; musingly, &ldquo;above all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>290]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXIX.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A FIRST LIE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>As a faithful, as a loving wife almost, did Judith attend
+to Coppinger for the day or two before he was himself
+again. He had been bruised, that was all. The
+waves had driven him against the boat, and he had been
+struck by an oar; but the very fact that he was driven
+against the boat had proved his salvation, for he was
+drawn on board, and his own men carried him swiftly to
+the bank, and, finding him unable to walk, conveyed him
+home. On reaching home a worse blow than that of
+the oar had struck him, and struck him on the heart, and
+it was dealt him by his wife. She bade him put away
+from him for ever the expectation, the hope, of her becoming
+his in more than name.</p>
+
+<p>Pain and disappointment made him irritable. He
+broke out into angry complaint, and Judith had much to
+endure. She did not answer him. She had told him her
+purpose, and she would neither be bullied nor cajoled to
+alter it.</p>
+
+<p>Judith had much time to herself; she wandered
+through the rooms of Pentyre during the day without
+encountering anyone, and then strolled on the cliffs;
+wherever she went she carried her trouble with her,
+gnawing at her heart. There was no deliverance for her,
+and she did not turn her mind in that direction. She
+would remain what she was&mdash;Coppinger&rsquo;s half-wife, a
+wife without a wedding-ring, united to him by a most
+dubiously legal ceremony. She bore his name, she was
+content to do that; she must bear with his love turned
+to fury by disappointment. She would do that till it
+died away before her firm and unchangeable opposition.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What will be said,&rdquo; growled Coppinger, &ldquo;when it is
+seen that you wear no ring?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will wear my mother&rsquo;s, and turn the stone within,&rdquo;
+answered Judith, &ldquo;then it will be like our marriage, a
+semblance, nothing more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>291]</a></span>
+She did appear next day with a ring. When the hand
+was closed, it looked like a plain gold wedding hoop.
+When she opened and turned her hand, it was apparent
+that within was a small brilliant. A modest ring, a very
+inexpensive one, that her father had given to her mother
+as a guard. Modest and inexpensive because his purse
+could afford no better; not because he would not have
+given her the best diamonds available, had he possessed
+the means to purchase them.</p>
+
+<p>This ring had been removed from the dead finger of
+her mother, and Mr. Peter Trevisa had preserved it as a
+present for the daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Almost every day Judith went to Polzeath to give
+lessons to Jamie, and to see how the boy was going on.
+Jamie was happy with Mr. Menaida, he liked a little
+desultory work, and Oliver was kind to him, took him
+walks, and talked to him of scenes in Portugal.</p>
+
+<p>Very often, indeed, did Judith, when she arrived,
+find Oliver at his father&rsquo;s. He would sometimes sit
+through the lesson, often attend her back to the gate
+of Pentyre. His conduct toward her was deferential,
+tinged with pity. She could see in his eyes, read in his
+manner of address, that he knew her story, and grieved
+for her, and would do anything he could to release her
+from her place of torment, if he knew how. But he
+never spoke to her of Coppinger, never of her marriage,
+and the peculiar features that attended it. She often
+ventured on the topic of the wreck, and he saw that she
+was probing him to discover the truth concerning it,
+but he on no occasion allowed himself to say anything
+that could give her reason to believe her husband was
+the cause of the ship being lost, nor did he tell her of
+his own desperate conflict with the wrecker captain on
+board the vessel.</p>
+
+<p>He was a pleasant companion, cheerful and entertaining.
+Having been abroad, though not having travelled
+widely, he could tell much about Portugal, and something
+about Spain. Judith&rsquo;s eager mind was greedy
+after information, and it diverted her thoughts from
+painful topics to hear and talk about orange and lemon
+groves, the vineyards, the flower-gardens, the manners
+and customs of the people of Portugal, to see sketches
+of interesting places, and of the costumes of the peasantry.
+What drew her to Oliver specially was, however,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>292]</a></span>
+his consideration for Jamie, to whom he was always
+kind, and whom he was disposed to amuse.</p>
+
+<p>The wreck of the merchantman on Doom Bar had
+caused a great commotion among the inhabitants of Cornwall.
+All the gentry, clergy, and the farmers and yeomen
+not immediately on the coast, felt that wrecking was not
+only a monstrous act of inhumanity, but was a scandal
+to the county, and ought to be peremptorily suppressed,
+and those guilty of it brought to justice. It was currently
+reported that the merchantman from Oporto was
+wilfully wrecked, and that an attempt had been made to
+rob and plunder the passengers and the vessel. But the
+evidence in support of this view was of little force. The
+only persons who had been found with a light on the
+cliffs were Mr. Menaida, whom every one respected for
+his integrity, and Judith, the daughter of the late rector
+of St. Enodoc, the most strenuous and uncompromising
+denouncer of wrecking. No one, however malicious,
+could believe either to be guilty of more than imprudence.</p>
+
+<p>The evidence as to the attempt of wreckers to invade
+the ship, and plunder it and the passengers also broke
+down. One lady alone could swear that her purse had
+been forcibly taken from her. The Portuguese men
+could hardly understand English, and though she asserted
+that she had been asked for money, she could
+not say that anything had been taken from her. It was
+quite possible that she had misunderstood an order
+given her to descend into the boat.</p>
+
+<p>The night had been dark, the lady who had been
+robbed could not swear to the identity of the man who
+had taken her purse, she could not even say that it was
+one of those who had come to the vessel, and was not one
+of the crew. The crew had behaved notoriously badly,
+some had been drunk, and it was possible that one of
+these fellows, flushed with spirits, had demanded and
+taken her money.</p>
+
+<p>There were two or three St. Enodoc men arrested because
+found on the ship at the time, but they persisted
+in the declaration that, hearing signals of distress, they
+had kindled a light and set it in the tower window of the
+church as a guide to the shipwrecked, and had gone to
+the vessel aground on Doom Bar, with the intention of
+offering every assistance in their power to the castaways.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>293]</a></span>
+They asserted that they had found the deck in confusion.
+The seamen drunk and lost to discipline, the passengers
+helpless and frightened, and that it was only owing to
+them that some sort of order was brought about, or attempted.
+The arrival of the coast-guard interfered with
+their efforts to be useful.</p>
+
+<p>The magistrates were constrained to dismiss the case,
+although possessed with the moral conviction that the
+matter was not as the accused represented. The only
+person who could have given evidence that might have
+consigned them to prison was Oliver, and he was not
+called upon to give witness.</p>
+
+<p>But, although the case had broken down completely,
+an uneasy and angry feeling prevailed. People were not
+convinced that the wreck was accidental, and they believed
+that but for the arrival of the guard, the passengers
+would have been robbed and the ship looted. It
+was true enough that a light had been exhibited from St.
+Enodoc tower, but that served as a guide to those who
+rushed upon the wreck, and was every whit as much to
+their advantage as to that of the shipwrecked men. For,
+suppose that the crew and passengers had got off in their
+boats, they would have made, naturally, for the light,
+and who could say but that a gang of ruffians was not
+waiting on the shore to plunder them as they landed.</p>
+
+<p>The general feeling in the county was one of vexation
+that more prompt action had not been taken, or that the
+action taken had not been more successful. No man
+showed this feeling more fully than Mr. Scantlebray, who
+hunted with the coast-guard for his own ends, and who
+had felt sanguine that in this case Coppinger would be
+caught.</p>
+
+<p>That Coppinger was at the bottom of the attempt,
+which had been partly successful, few doubted, and yet
+there was not a shadow of proof against him. But that,
+according to common opinion, only showed how deep
+was his craft.</p>
+
+<p>The state of Judith&rsquo;s mind was also one of unrest. She
+had a conviction seated in her heart that all was not
+right, and yet she had no sound cause for charging her
+husband with being a deliberate wrecker. Jamie had
+gone out with his ass and the lantern, that was true, but
+was Jamie&rsquo;s account of the affair to be relied on? When
+questioned he became confused. He never could be
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>294]</a></span>
+trusted to recall, twenty-four hours after an event, the
+particulars exactly as they occurred. Any suggestive
+queries drew him aside, and without an intent to deceive
+he would tell what was a lie, simply because he could
+not distinguish between realities and fleeting impressions.
+She knew that if she asked him whether Coppinger
+had fastened the lantern to the head of his donkey,
+and had bidden him drive the creature slowly up
+and down the inequalities of the surface of the cliffs, he
+would assent, and say it was so; but, then, if she were to
+say to him, &ldquo;Now, Jamie, did not Captain Coppinger tell
+you on no account to show the light till you reached the
+shore at St. Enodoc, and then to fix it steadily,&rdquo; that his
+face would for a moment assume a vacant, then a distressed
+expression, and he would finally say that he believed
+it really was so. No reliance was to be placed on
+anything he said, except at the moment, and not always
+then. He was liable to misunderstand directions, and by
+a stupid perversity to act exactly contrary to the instructions
+given him.</p>
+
+<p>Judith heard nothing of the surmises that floated in
+the neighborhood, but she knew enough to be uneasy.
+She had been somewhat reassured by Oliver Menaida;
+she could see no reason why he should withhold the truth
+from her. Was it, then, possible after all that Captain
+Coppinger had gone to the rescue of the wrecked people,
+that he had sent the light not to mislead, but to direct
+them aright?</p>
+
+<p>It was Judith&rsquo;s fate&mdash;so it seemed&mdash;to be never certain
+whether to think the worst of Coppinger, or to hold
+that he had been misjudged by her. He had been badly
+hurt in his attempt to rescue the crew and passengers&mdash;according
+to Aunt Dionysia&rsquo;s account. If she were to
+believe this story, then he was deserving of respect.</p>
+
+<p>Judith began to recover some of her cheerfulness,
+some of her freshness of looks. This was due to the
+abatement of her fears. Coppinger had angrily, sullenly,
+accepted the relation which she had assured him must
+subsist between them, and which could never be altered.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Dionysia was peevish and morose indeed. She
+had been disappointed in her hope of getting into Othello
+Cottage before Christmas; but she had apparently received
+a caution from Coppinger not to exhibit ill-will
+toward his wife by word or token, and she restrained
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>295]</a></span>
+herself, though with manifest effort. That sufficed Judith.
+She no longer looked for, cared for love from her aunt.
+It satisfied her if Miss Trevisa left her unmolested.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, Judith enjoyed the walk to Polzeath every
+day, and, somehow, the lessons to Jamie gave her an interest
+that she had never found in them before. Oliver
+was so helpful. When Jamie was stubborn, he persuaded
+him with a joke or a promise to laugh and put
+aside his ill-humor, and attack the task once more. The
+little gossiping talk after the lesson with Oliver, or with
+Oliver and his father, was a delight to her. She looked
+forward to it, from day to day, naturally, reasonably, for
+at the Glaze she had no one with whom to converse, no
+one with the same general interests as herself, the same
+knowledge of books, and pleasure in the acquisition of
+information.</p>
+
+<p>On mountain sides there are floral zones. The rhododendron
+and the gentian luxuriate at a certain level,
+above is the zone of the blue hippatica, the soldanella,
+and white crocus; below is the belt of mealy primula
+and lilac clematis. So is it in the world of minds&mdash;they
+have their levels, and can only live on those levels.
+Transplant them to a higher or to a lower zone and they
+suffer, and die.</p>
+
+<p>Judith found no one at Pentyre with whom she could
+associate with pleasure. It was only when she was at
+Polzeath with Uncle Zachie and Oliver that she could
+talk freely and feel in her element.</p>
+
+<p>One day Oliver said to her, &ldquo;Judith&rdquo;&mdash;for, on the
+understanding that they were cousins, they called each
+other by their Christian names&mdash;&ldquo;Judith! are you going
+to the ball at Wadebridge after Christmas?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ball, Oliver, what ball?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That which Mr. Mules is giving for the restoration
+of his church.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know. I&mdash;yes, I have heard of it; but I had
+clean forgotten all about it. I had rather not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you must, and promise me three dances, at least.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know what to say. Captain Coppinger&rdquo;&mdash;she
+never spoke of her husband by his Christian name,
+never thought of him as other than Captain Coppinger.
+Did she think of Oliver as Mr. Menaida, junior? &ldquo;Captain
+Coppinger has not said anything to me about it of
+late. I do not wish to go. My dear father&rsquo;s death&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>296]</a></span>
+&ldquo;But the dance is after Christmas. And, you know,
+it is for a sacred purpose. Think, every whirl you take
+puts a new stone on the foundations, and every setting
+to your partner in quadrille adds a pane of glass to the
+battered windows.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; again said Judith, and became grave.
+Her heart fluttered. She would like to be at the ball&mdash;and
+dance three dances with Oliver&mdash;but would Captain
+Coppinger suffer her? Would he expect to dance with
+her all the evening? If that were so, she would not
+like to go. &ldquo;I really do not know,&rdquo; again she said,
+clasped her hands on her knees, and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why that sigh, Judith?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked up, dropped her eyes in confusion, and
+said faintly, &ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; and that was her first lie.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>297]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XL.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">THE DIAMOND BUTTERFLY.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Poor little fool! Shrewd in maintaining her conflict
+with Cruel Coppinger&mdash;always on the defensive, ever on
+guard, she was sliding unconsciously, without the smallest
+suspicion of danger, into a state that must eventually
+make her position more desperate and intolerable.
+In her inexperience she had never supposed that her own
+heart could be a traitor within the city walls. She took
+pleasure in the society of Oliver, and thought no wrong
+in so doing. She liked him, and would have reproached
+herself had she not done so.</p>
+
+<p>Her relations with Coppinger remained strained. He
+was a good deal from home; indeed, he went on a cruise
+in his vessel, the Black Prince, and was absent for a
+month. He hoped that in his absence she might come
+to a better mind. They met, when he was at home,
+at meals; at other times not at all. He went his way,
+she went hers. Whether the agitation of men&rsquo;s minds
+relative to the loss of the merchantman, and the rumors
+concerning the manner of its loss, had made Captain
+Cruel think it were well for him to absent himself for
+a while, till they had blown away, or whether he thought
+that his business required his attention elsewhere, or
+that by being away from home his wife might be the
+readier to welcome him, and come out of her vantage
+castle, and lay down her arms, cannot be said for certain;
+probably all these motives combined to induce him to
+leave Pentyre for five or six weeks.</p>
+
+<p>While he was away Judith was lighter in heart. He
+returned shortly before Christmas, and was glad to see
+her more like her old self, with cheeks rounder, less
+livid, eyes less sunken, less like those of a hunted beast,
+and with a step that had resumed its elasticity. But he
+did not find her more disposed to receive him with affection
+as a husband. He thought that probably some
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>298]</a></span>
+change in the monotony of life at Pentyre might be of
+advantage, and he somewhat eagerly entered into the
+scheme for the ball at Wadebridge. She had been
+kept to books and to the society of her father too much,
+in days gone by, and had become whimsical and prudish.
+She must learn some of the enjoyments of life, and
+then she would cling to the man who opened to her a
+new sphere of happiness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;we will certainly go to this ball.
+It will be a pleasant one. As it is for a charitable purpose,
+all the neighborhood will be there. Squire Humphrey
+Prideaux of Prideaux Place, the Matthews of Roscarrock,
+the Molesworths of Pencarrow, and every one
+worth knowing in the country round for twelve miles.
+But you will be the queen of the ball.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith at first thought of appearing at the dance in her
+simplest evening dress; she was shy and did not desire
+to attract attention. Her own position was anomalous,
+because that of Coppinger was anomalous. He passed
+as a gentleman in a part of the country not very exacting
+that the highest culture should prevail in the upper
+region of society. He had means, and he owned a small
+estate. But no one knew whence he came, or what was
+the real source whence he derived his income. Suspicion
+attached to him as engaged in both smuggling
+and wrecking, neither of which were regarded as professions
+consonant with gentility. The result of this
+uncertainty relative to Coppinger was that he was not
+received into the best society. The gentlemen knew
+him and greeted him in the hunting-field, and would
+dine with him at his house. The ladies, of course, had
+never been invited, because he was an unmarried man.
+The gentlemen probably had dealings with him about
+which they said nothing to their wives. It is certain
+that the Bodmin wine-merchant grumbled that the great
+houses of the north of Cornwall did not patronize him
+as they ought, and that no wine-merchant was ever able
+to pick up a subsistence at Wadebridge. Yet the country
+gentry were by no means given to temperance, and
+their cellars were being continually refilled.</p>
+
+<p>It was not their interest to be on bad terms with Coppinger,
+one must conjecture, for they went somewhat
+out of their way to be civil to him.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger knew this, and thought that now he was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>299]</a></span>
+married an opportunity had come in this charity
+ball for the introduction of Judith to society, and that
+to the best society, and he trusted to her merits and
+beauty, and to his own influence with the gentlemen, to
+obtain for her admission to the houses of the neighborhood.
+As the daughter of the Rev. Peter Trevisa, who
+had been universally respected, not only as a gentleman
+and a scholar, but also as a representative of an ancient
+Cornish family of untold antiquity, she had a perfect
+right to be received into the highest society of Cornwall,
+but her father had been a reserved and poor man.
+He did not himself care for associating with fox-hunting
+and sporting squires, nor would he accept invitations
+when he was unable to return them. Consequently
+Judith had gone about very little when at St. Enodoc
+rectory. Moreover, she had been but a child, and was
+known only by name to those who lived in the neighborhood.
+She was personally acquainted with none of
+the county people.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Cruel had small doubt but that, the ice once
+broken, Judith would make friends, and would be warmly
+received. The neighborhood was scantily peppered
+over with county family-seats, and the families found
+the winters tedious, and were glad of any accession to
+their acquaintance, and of another house opened to
+them for entertainment.</p>
+
+<p>If Judith were received well, and found distraction
+from her morbid and fantastic thoughts, then she would
+be grateful to him&mdash;so thought Coppinger&mdash;grateful for
+having brought her into a more cheerful and bright condition
+of life than that in which she had been reared.
+Following thereon, her aversion for him, or shyness
+toward him, would give way.</p>
+
+<p>And Judith&mdash;what were her thoughts? Her mind
+was a little fluttered, she had to consider what to wear.
+At first she would go simply clad, then her aunt insisted
+that, as a bride, she must appear in suitable garb, that
+in which she had been married, not that with the two
+sleeves for one side, which had been laid by. Then the
+question of the jewellery arose. Judith did not wish to
+wear it, but yielded to her aunt&rsquo;s advice. Miss Trevisa
+represented to her that, having the diamonds, she ought
+to wear them, and that not to wear them would hurt and
+offend Captain Coppinger, who had given them to her.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>300]</a></span>
+This she was reluctant to do. However, she consented
+to oblige and humor him in such a small matter.</p>
+
+<p>The night arrived, and Judith was dressed for the ball.
+Never before had Coppinger seen her in evening costume,
+and his face beamed with pride as he looked on her
+in her white silk dress, with ornaments of white satiny
+bugles in sprigs edging throat and sleeves, and forming
+a rich belt about the waist. She wore the diamond butterfly
+in her bosom, and the two earrings to match. A little
+color was in her delicately pure cheeks, brought there
+by excitement. She had never been at a ball before, and
+with an innocent, childish simplicity she wondered what
+Oliver Menaida would think of her in her ball-dress.</p>
+
+<p>Judith and Coppinger arrived somewhat late, and
+most of those who had taken tickets were already there.
+Sir William and Lady Molesworth were there, and the
+half-brother of Sir William, John Molesworth, rector of
+St. Breock, and his wife, the daughter of Sir John S.
+Aubyn. With the baronet and his lady had come a
+friend, staying with them at Pencarrow, and Lady
+Knighton, wife of an Indian judge. The Matthews were
+there; the Tremaynes came all the way from Heligan,
+as owning property in St. Enodoc, and so, in duty bound
+to support the charity; the Prideauxs were there from
+Place; and many, if not all, of the gentry of various
+degrees who resided within twelve to fifteen miles of
+Wadebridge were also there.</p>
+
+<p>The room was not one of any interest, it was long,
+had a good floor, which is the main thing considered by
+dancers, a gallery at one end for the instrumentalists,
+and a draught which circulated round the walls, and cut
+the throats of the old ladies who acted as wall-fruit.
+There was, however, a room to which they could adjourn
+to play cards. And many of the dowagers and old maids
+had brought with them little silver linked purses in
+which was as much money as they had made up their
+minds to lose that evening.</p>
+
+<p>The dowager Lady Molesworth in a red turban was
+talking to Lady Knighton, a lady who had been pretty,
+but whose complexion had been spoiled by Indian suns,
+and to her Sir William was offering a cup of tea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said Lady Knighton, &ldquo;how tremulous my
+hand is. I have been like this for some years&mdash;indeed
+ever since I was in this neighborhood before.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>301]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I did not know you had honored us with a visit on a
+previous occasion,&rdquo; said Sir William.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was very different from the present, I can assure
+you,&rdquo; answered the lady. &ldquo;Now it is voluntarily&mdash;then
+it was much the contrary. Now I have come among very
+dear and kind friends, then&mdash;I fell among thieves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was on my return from India,&rdquo; said Lady Knighton.
+&ldquo;Look at my hand!&rdquo; She held forth her arm, and
+showed how it shook as with palsy. &ldquo;This hand was
+firm then. I even played several games of spellikins on
+board ship on the voyage home, and, Sir William, I won
+invariably, so steady was my hold of the crook, so evenly
+did I raise each of the little sticks. But ever since then
+I have had this nervous tremor that makes me dread
+holding anything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But how came it about?&rdquo; asked the baronet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will tell you, but&mdash;who is that just entered the
+room?&rdquo; she pointed with trembling finger.</p>
+
+<p>Judith had come in along with Captain Coppinger,
+and stood near the door, the light of the wax candles
+twinkling in her bugles, glancing in flashes from her
+radiant hair. She was looking about her, and her bosom
+heaved, she sought Oliver, and he was near at hand. A
+flush of pleasure sprang into her cheeks as she caught
+his eye, and held out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I demand my dance!&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, not the first, Oliver,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger&rsquo;s brows knit.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is this?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! do you not know? Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s son, Mr. Oliver.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The two men&rsquo;s eyes met, their irises contracted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think we have met before,&rdquo; said Oliver.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is possible,&rdquo; answered Captain Cruel, contemptuously,
+looking in another direction.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When we met I knew you without your knowing
+me,&rdquo; pursued the young man, in a voice that shook with
+anger. He had recognized the tone of the voice that had
+spoken on the wreck.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of that I, neither, have any doubt as to its possibility.
+I do not recollect every Jack I encounter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A moment after an idea struck him, and he turned his
+head sharply, fixed his eyes on young Menaida, and
+said, &ldquo;Where did we meet?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>302]</a></span>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Encounter&rsquo; was your word.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well&mdash;encounter!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On Doom Bar.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger&rsquo;s color changed. A sinister flicker came
+into his sombre eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said he slowly, in low vibrating tones, &ldquo;we
+shall meet again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, we shall meet again, and conclude our&mdash;I
+use your term&mdash;&lsquo;encounter.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith did not hear the conversation. She had been
+pounced upon by Mr. Desiderius Mules.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now&mdash;positively I must walk through a quadrille
+with you,&rdquo; said the rector. &ldquo;This is all my affair; it all
+springs from me, I arranged everything. I beat up
+patrons and patronesses. I stirred up the neighborhood.
+It all turns as a wheel about me as the axle. Come
+along, the band is beginning to play. You shall positively
+walk through a quadrille with me.&rdquo; Mr. Mules
+was not the man to be put on one side, not one to accept
+a refusal; he carried off the bride to the head of the room
+and set her in one square.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look at the decorations,&rdquo; said Mr. Mules, &ldquo;I designed
+them. I hope you will like the supper. I drew
+up the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">menu</i>. I chose the wines, and I know they are
+good. The candles I got at wholesale price&mdash;because
+for a charity. What beautiful diamonds you are wearing.
+They are not paste, I suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yet good old paste is just as iridescent as real diamonds.
+Where did you get them? Are they family
+jewels? I have heard that the Trevisas were great people
+at one time. Well, so were the Mules. We are
+really De Moels. We came in with the Conqueror.
+That is why I have such a remarkable Christian name.
+Desiderius is the French D&eacute;sir&eacute;, and a Norman Christian
+name. Look at the wreaths of laurel and holly.
+How do you like them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The decorations are charming.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am so pleased that you have come,&rdquo; pursued Mr.
+Mules. &ldquo;It is your first appearance in public as Mrs.
+Captain Coppinger. I have been horribly uncomfortable
+about&mdash;you remember what. I have been afraid I
+had put my foot into it, and might get into hot water.
+But now you have come here, it is all right; it shows me
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>303]</a></span>
+that you are coming round to a sensible view, and that
+to-morrow you will be at the rectory and sign the register.
+If inconvenient, I will run up with it under
+my arm to the Glaze. At what time am I likely to catch
+you both in? The witnesses, Miss Trevisa and Mr.
+Menaida, one can always get at. Perhaps you will speak
+to your aunt and see that she is on the spot, and I&rsquo;ll
+take the old fellow on my way home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Mules, we will not talk of that now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come! you must see, and be introduced to, Lady
+Molesworth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In the meanwhile Lady Knighton was telling her
+story to a party round her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was returning with my two children from India;
+it is now some years ago. It is so sad, in the case of Indians,
+either the parents must part from their children,
+or the mother must take her children to England and be
+parted from her husband. I brought my little ones
+back to be with my husband&rsquo;s sister, who kindly undertook
+to see to them. We encountered a terrible gale as
+we approached this coast; do you recollect the loss of
+the Andromeda?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly,&rdquo; answered Sir William Molesworth; &ldquo;were
+you in that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, to my cost. One of my darlings so suffered
+from the exposure that she died. But, really, I do not
+think it was the wreck of the vessel which was worst. It
+was not that, not that alone, which brought this nervous
+tremor on me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I remember that case,&rdquo; said Sir William. &ldquo;It was a
+very bad one, and disgraceful to our county. We have
+recently had an ugly story of a wreck on Doom Bar, with
+suspicion of evil practices; but nothing could be
+proved, nothing brought home to anyone. In the case of
+the Andromeda there was something of the same sort.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, indeed, there were evil practices. I was
+robbed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You! surely, Lady Knighton, it was not of you that
+the story was told?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you mean the story of the diamonds, it was,&rdquo; answered
+the Indian lady. &ldquo;We had to leave the wreck,
+and carry all our portable valuables with us. I had a
+set of jewellery of Indian work, given me by Sir James&mdash;well,
+he was only plain Mr. Knighton then. It was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>304]</a></span>
+rather quaint in design: there was a brooch representing
+a butterfly, and two emeralds formed the&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Excuse me one moment, Lady Knighton,&rdquo; said Sir
+William. &ldquo;Here comes the new rector of St. Enodoc,
+with the bride, to introduce her to my wife. I am
+ashamed to say we have not made her acquaintance before.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bride! what&mdash;his bride?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no; the bride of a certain Captain Coppinger,
+who lives near here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is pretty, very pretty; but how delicate!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Lady Knighton sprang to her feet, with an
+exclamation so shrill and startling that the dancers
+ceased, and the conductor of the band, thinking an accident
+had occurred, with his baton stopped the music.
+All attention was drawn to Lady Knighton, who, erect,
+trembling from head to foot, stood pointing with shaking
+finger to Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See! see! My jewels, that were torn from me!
+Look!&rdquo; She lifted the hair, worn low over her cheeks,
+and displayed one ear; the lobe was torn away.</p>
+
+<p>No one stirred in the ball-room; no one spoke. The
+fiddler stood with bow suspended over the strings, the
+flutist with fingers on all stops. Every eye was fixed
+on Judith. It was still in that room as though a ghost
+had passed through in winding-sheet. In this hush,
+Lady Knighton approached Judith, pointing still with
+trembling hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I demand, whence comes that brooch? Where&mdash;from
+whom did you get those earrings? They are mine;
+given me in India by my husband. They are Indian
+work, and not to be mistaken. They were plucked from
+me one awful night of wreck by a monster in human
+form, who came to our vessel, as we sought to leave it,
+and robbed us of our treasures. Answer me&mdash;who gave
+you those jewels?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith was speechless. The lights in the room died
+to feeble stars. The floor rolled like a sea under her
+feet; the ceiling was coming down on her.</p>
+
+<p>She heard whispers, murmurs&mdash;a humming as of a
+swarm of bees approaching ready to settle on her and
+sting her. She looked round her. Every one had withdrawn
+from her. Mr. Desiderius Mules had released
+her arm, and stood back. She tried to speak, but could
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>305]</a></span>
+not. Should she make the confession which would incriminate
+her husband?</p>
+
+<p>Then she heard a man&rsquo;s deep voice, heard a step on
+the floor. In a moment an arm was round her, sustaining
+her, as she tottered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I gave her the jewels. I, Curll Coppinger, of Pentyre.
+If you ask where I got them&mdash;I will tell you. I bought
+them of Willy Mann, the pedlar. I will give you any
+further information you require to-morrow. Make room;
+my wife is frightened.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then, holding her, looking haughtily, threateningly,
+from side to side, Coppinger helped Judith along&mdash;the
+whole length of the ball-room&mdash;between rows of astonished,
+open-eyed, mute dancers. Near the door was a
+knot of gentlemen. They sprang apart, and Coppinger
+conveyed Judith through the door, out of the light, down
+the stairs, into the open air.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>306]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XLI.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A DEAD-LOCK.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The incident of the jewellery of Lady Knighton occasioned
+much talk. On the evening of the ball it occupied
+the whole conversation, as the sole topic on which
+tongues could run and brains work. I say tongues run
+and brains work and not brains work and tongues run,
+for the former is the natural order in chatter. It was a
+subject that was thrashed by a hundred tongues of the
+dancers. Then it was turned over and rethrashed. Then
+it was winnowed. The chaff of the tale was blown into
+the kitchens and servants&rsquo; halls, it drifted into tap-rooms,
+where the coachmen and grooms congregated and
+drank; and there it was rethrashed and rewinnowed.</p>
+
+<p>On the day following the ball, the jewels were returned
+to Lady Knighton, with a courteous letter from
+Captain Coppinger, to say that he had obtained them
+through the well-known Willy Mann, a pedlar who did
+commissions for the neighborhood, who travelled from
+Exeter along the south coast of Devon and Cornwall,
+and returned along the north coast of both counties.</p>
+
+<p>Everyone had made use of this fellow to do commissions,
+and trustworthy he had always proved. That was
+not a time when there was a parcels&rsquo; post, and few could
+afford the time and the money to run at every requirement
+to the great cities, where were important shops
+when they required what could not be obtained in small
+country towns. He had been employed to match silks,
+to choose carpets, to bring medicines, to select jewellery,
+to convey love-letters.</p>
+
+<p>But Willy Mann had, unfortunately, died a month ago,
+having fallen off a wagon and broken his neck.</p>
+
+<p>Consequently it was not possible to follow up any further
+the traces of the diamond butterflies. Willy Mann,
+as was well known, had been a vehicle for conveying
+sundry valuables from ladies who had lost money at
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>307]</a></span>
+cards, and wanted to recoup by parting with bracelets
+and brooches. That he may have received stolen goods
+and valuables obtained from wrecks was also probable.</p>
+
+<p>So, after all the thrashing and winnowing, folks were
+no wiser than before, and no nearer the solution of the
+mystery. Some thought that Coppinger was guilty,
+others thought not, and others maintained a neutral position.
+Some again thought one thing one day and the
+opposite the next, and some always agreed with the
+last speaker&rsquo;s views. Whereas others again always took
+a contrary opinion to those who discussed the matter
+with them.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, the matter went through a course much like
+a fever. It blazed out, was furious, then died away;
+languor ensued&mdash;and it gave symptoms of disappearing.</p>
+
+<p>The general mistrust against Coppinger was deepened,
+certainly, and the men who had wine and spirits and tobacco
+through him, resolved to have wine and spirits
+and tobacco from him, but nothing more. They would
+deal with him as a trader, and not acknowledge him as
+their social fellow. The ladies pitied Judith, they professed
+their respect for her; but as beds are made so
+must they be lain on, and as is cooked so must be eaten.
+She had married a man whom all mistrusted, and must
+suffer accordingly; one who is associated with an infected
+patient is certain to be shunned as much as the
+patient. Such is the way of the world, and we cannot
+alter it, as the making of that way has not been intrusted
+to us. On the day following the ball, Judith
+did not appear at Polzeath, nor again on the day after
+that.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver became restless. The cheerful humor, the
+merry mood that his father had professed were his, had
+deserted him. He could not endure the thought that
+one so innocent, so child-like as Judith, should have her
+fortunes linked to those of a man of whom he knew the
+worst. He could not, indeed, swear to his identity with
+the man on the wreck who had attempted to rob the
+passengers, and who had fought with him. He had no
+doubt whatever in his own mind that his adversary and
+assailant had been Coppinger, but he was led to this
+identification by nothing more tangible than the allusion
+made to Wyvill&rsquo;s death, and a certain tone of voice
+which he believed he recognized. The evidence was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>308]</a></span>
+insufficient to convict him, of that Oliver was well aware.
+He was confident, moreover, that Coppinger was the
+man who had taken the jewels from Lady Knighton; but
+here again he was wholly unsupported by any sound
+basis of fact on which his conviction could maintain
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>Toward Coppinger he felt an implacable anger, and a
+keen desire for revenge. He would like to punish him for
+that assault on the wreck, but chiefly for the wrongs
+done to Judith. She had no champion, no protector.
+His father, as he acknowledged to himself, was a broken
+reed for one to lean on, a man of good intentions, but of a
+confused mind, of weakness of purpose, and lack of energy.
+The situation of Judith was a pitiful one, and if she
+was to be rescued from it, he must rescue her. But when
+he came to consider the way and means, he found himself
+beset with difficulties. She was married after a fashion.
+It was very questionable whether the marriage was legal,
+but, nevertheless, it was known through the county that
+a marriage had taken place, Judith had gone to Coppinger&rsquo;s
+house, and had appeared at the ball as his wife.
+If he established before the world that the marriage was
+invalid, what would she do? How would the world regard
+her? Was it possible for him to bring Coppinger
+to justice?</p>
+
+<p>Oliver went about instituting inquiries. He endeavored
+to trace to their source, the rumors that circulated
+relative to Coppinger, but always without finding anything
+on which he could lay hold. It was made plain to
+him that Captain Cruel was but the head of a great association
+of men, all involved in illegal practices; men engaged
+in smuggling, and ready to make their profit of a
+wreck, when a wreck fell in their way. They hung together
+like bees. Touch one, and the whole hive swarmed out.
+They screened one another, were ready to give testimony
+before magistrates that would exculpate whoever of the
+gang was accused. They evaded every attempt of the
+coast-guard to catch them; they laughed at the constables
+and magistrates. Information was passed from one to
+another with incredible rapidity; they had their spies
+and their agents along the coast. The magistrates and
+country gentry, though strongly reprobating wrecking,
+and bitterly opposed to poaching, were of broad and generous
+views regarding smuggling, and the preventive
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>309]</a></span>
+officer complained that he did not receive that support
+from the squirearchy which he expected and had a right
+to demand.</p>
+
+<p>There were caves along the whole coast, from Land&rsquo;s
+End to Hartland, and there were, unquestionably, stores
+of smuggled goods in a vast number of places, centres
+whence they were distributed. When a vessel engaged
+in the contraband trade appeared off the coast, and the
+guard were on the alert in one place, she ran a few miles
+up or down, signalled to shore, and landed her cargo before
+the coast-guard knew where she was. They were
+being constantly deceived by false information, and led
+away in one direction while the contraband goods were
+being conveyed ashore in an opposite quarter.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver learned much concerning this during the ensuing
+few days. He made acquaintance with the officer
+in command of the nearest station, and resolved to keep
+a close watch on Coppinger, and to do his utmost to effect
+his arrest. When Captain Cruel was got out of the
+way, then something could be done for Judith. An opportunity
+came in Oliver&rsquo;s way of learning tidings of
+importance, and that when he least expected it. As already
+said, he was wont to go about on the cliffs with
+Jamie, and after Judith ceased to appear at Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s
+cottage, in his unrest he took Jamie much with
+him, out of consideration for Judith, who, as he was well
+aware, would be content to have her brother with him,
+and kept thereby out of mischief.</p>
+
+<p>On one of these occasions he found the boy lag behind,
+become uneasy, and at last refuse to go farther. He inquired
+the reason, and Jamie, in evident alarm, replied
+that he dare not&mdash;he had been forbidden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By whom?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He said he would throw me over, as he did my doggie,
+if I came here again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who did?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie was frightened, and looked round.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mustn&rsquo;t say,&rdquo; he answered, in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Must not say what, Jamie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was to let no one know about it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;About what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid to say. He would throw me over. I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>310]</a></span>
+found it out and showed it to Ju. I have never been
+down there since.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger found you somewhere, and forbade
+your ever going to that place again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; in a faltering voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And threatened to fling you over the cliffs if you did!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; again timidly.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver said quietly, &ldquo;Now run home and leave me
+here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I daren&rsquo;t go by myself. I did not mean to come
+here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well. No one has seen you. Let me see, this
+wall marks the spot. I will go back with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver was unusually silent as he walked to Polzeath
+with Jamie. He was unwilling further to press the boy.
+He would probably confuse him, by throwing him into a
+paroxysm of alarm. He had gained sufficient information
+for his purpose from the few words he let drop. &ldquo;I
+have never been down there since,&rdquo; Jamie had said. There
+was, then, something that Coppinger desired should not
+be generally known concealed between the point on the
+cliff where the &ldquo;new-take&rdquo; wall ended and the beach immediately
+beneath.</p>
+
+<p>He took Jamie to his father, and got the old man to
+give him some setting up of birds to amuse and occupy
+him, and then returned to the cliff. It did not take him
+long to discover the entrance to the cave beneath, behind
+the curtain of slate reef, and as he penetrated this
+to the farthest point, he was placed in possession of one
+of the secrets of Coppinger and his band.</p>
+
+<p>He did not tarry there, but returned home another way,
+musing over what he had learned, and considering what
+advantage he was to take of it. A very little thought
+satisfied him that his wisest course was to say nothing
+about what he had learned, and to await the turns of
+fortune, and the incautiousness of the smugglers.</p>
+
+<p>From this time, moreover, he discontinued his visits to
+the coast-guard station, which was on the farther side of
+the estuary of the Camel, and which could not well be
+crossed without attracting attention. There was no
+trusting anyone, Oliver felt&mdash;the boatman who put him
+across was very possibly in league with the smugglers,
+and was a spy on those who were in communication with
+the officers of the revenue.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>311]</a></span>
+Another reason for his cessation of visits was that, on
+his return to his father&rsquo;s house, after having explored
+the cave, and the track in the face of the cliff leading to
+it, he heard that Jamie had been taken away by Coppinger.
+The Captain had been there during his absence,
+and had told Mr. Menaida that Judith was distressed at
+being separated from her brother, and that, as there were
+reasons which made him desire that she should forego
+her walks to Polzeath, he, Captain Coppinger, deemed it
+advisable to bring Jamie back to Pentyre.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver asked himself, when he heard this, with some
+unease, whether this was due to his having been observed
+with the boy on the downs near the place from which
+access to the cave was had. Also, whether the boy would
+be frightened at the appearance of Captain Cruel so soon
+after he had approached the forbidden spot, and, in his
+fear, reveal that he had been there with Oliver and had
+partially betrayed the secret.</p>
+
+<p>There was another question he was also constrained
+to ask himself, and it was one that made the color flash
+into his cheek. What was the particular reason why
+Captain Coppinger objected to the visits of his wife
+to Polzeath at that time? Was he jealous? He recalled
+the flare in his eyes at the ball, when Judith
+turned to him, held out her hand, and called him by his
+Christian name.</p>
+
+<p>From this time all communication with Pentyre Glaze
+was cut off; tidings relative to Judith and Jamie were
+not to be had. Judith was not seen, Aunt Dionysia
+rarely, and from her nothing was to be learned. It would
+hardly comport with discretion for inquiries to be made
+by Oliver of the servants of the Glaze; but his father,
+moved by Oliver and by his own anxiety, did venture to
+go to the house and ask after Judith. He was coldly
+received by Miss Trevisa, who took the opportunity to
+insult him by asking if he had come to have his bill settled&mdash;there
+being a small account in his favor for Jamie.
+She paid him, and sent the old fellow fuming, stamping,
+even swearing, home, and as ignorant of the condition of
+Judith as when he went. He had not seen Judith, nor
+had he met Captain Coppinger. He had caught a glimpse
+of Jamie in the yard with his donkey, but the moment
+the boy saw him he dived into the stable, and did not
+emerge from it till Uncle Zachie was gone.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>312]</a></span>
+Then Mr. Menaida, still urged by his son and by his
+own feelings, incapable of action unless goaded by these
+double spurs, went to the rectory to ask Mr. Mules if he
+had seen Judith, and whether anything had been done
+about the signatures in the register.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Desiderius was communicative.</p>
+
+<p>He had been to Pentyre about the matter. He was, as
+he said, &ldquo;in a stew over it&rdquo; himself. It was most
+awkward; he had filled in as much as he could of the register,
+and all that lacked were the signatures&mdash;he might
+say all but that of the bride and Mr. Menaida, for there
+had been a scene. Mrs. Coppinger had come down, and,
+in the presence of the Captain and her aunt, he had expostulated
+with her, had pointed out to her the awkward
+position in which it placed himself, the scruple he felt
+at retaining the fee, when the work was only half done;
+how, that by appearing at the ball, she had shown to the
+whole neighborhood that she was the wife of Captain
+Coppinger, and that, having done this, she might as
+well append her name to the entry in the register. Then
+Captain Coppinger and Miss Trevisa had made the
+requisite entries, but Judith had again calmly, but resolutely,
+refused.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Mules admitted there had been a scene. Mr.
+Coppinger became angry, and used somewhat violent
+words. But nothing that he himself could say, no representations
+made by her aunt, no urgency on the part of
+her husband could move the resolution of Judith, &ldquo;which
+was a bit of arrant tomfoolery,&rdquo; said Mr. Desiderius,
+&ldquo;and I told her so. Even that&mdash;the knowledge that she
+went down a peg in my estimation&mdash;even that did not
+move her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And how was she?&rdquo; asked Mr. Menaida.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Obstinate,&rdquo; answered the rector, &ldquo;obstinate as a&mdash;I
+mean as a donkey, that is the position of affairs. We
+are at a dead-lock.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>313]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XLII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">TWO LETTERS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Oliver Menaida was summoned to Bristol by the heads
+of the firm which he served, and he was there detained
+for ten days.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst he was away, Uncle Zachie felt his solitude
+greatly. Had he had even Jamie with him he might have
+been content, but to be left completely alone was a trial
+to him, especially since he had become accustomed to
+having the young Trevisa in his house. He missed his
+music. Judith&rsquo;s playing had been to him an inexpressibly
+great delight. The old man for many years had gone
+on strumming and fumbling at music by great masters,
+incapable of executing it, and unwilling to hear it
+performed by incompetent instrumentalists. At length
+Judith had seated herself at his piano, and had brought
+into life all that wondrous world of melody and harmony
+which he had guessed at, believed in, yearned for, but
+never reached. And now that he was left without her to
+play to him, he felt like one deprived of a necessary of
+life.</p>
+
+<p>But his unrest did not spring solely from a selfish motive.
+He was not at ease in his mind about her. Why
+did he not see her anymore? Why was she confined to
+Pentyre! Was she ill? Was she restrained there
+against her will from visiting her old friends? Mr.
+Menaida was very unhappy because of Judith. He knew
+that she was resolved never to acknowledge Coppinger
+as her real husband; she did not love him, she shrank
+from him. And knowing what he did&mdash;the story of the
+invasion of the wreck, the fight with Oliver&mdash;he felt that
+there was no brutality, no crime which Coppinger was
+not capable of committing, and he trembled for the happiness
+of the poor little creature who was in his hands.
+Weak and irresolute though Mr. Menaida was, he was
+peppery and impulsive when irritated, and his temper
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>314]</a></span>
+had been roused by the manner of his reception at the
+Glaze, when he went there to inquire after Judith.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst engaged on his birds, his hand shook, so that he
+could not shape them aright. When he smoked his pipe,
+he pulled it from between his lips every moment to
+growl out some remark. When he sipped his grog, he
+could not enjoy it. He had a tender heart, and he had
+become warmly attached to Judith. He firmly believed
+in identification of the ruffian with whom Oliver had
+fought on the deck, and it was horrible to think that the
+poor child was at his mercy; and that she had no one to
+counsel and to help her.</p>
+
+<p>At length he could endure the suspense no longer.
+One evening, after he had drank a good many glasses of
+rum and water, he jumped up, put on his hat, and went
+off to Pentyre, determined to insist on seeing Judith.</p>
+
+<p>As he approached the house he saw that the hall windows
+were lighted up. He knew which was Judith&rsquo;s
+room, from what she had told him of its position. There
+was a light in that window also. Uncle Zachie, flushed
+with anger against Coppinger, and with the spirits he
+had drank, anxious about Judith, and resenting the way
+in which he had been treated, went boldly up to the front
+door and knocked. A maid answered his knock, and he
+asked to see Mrs. Coppinger. The woman hesitated, and
+bade him be seated in the porch. She would go and see.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Miss Trevisa came, and shut the door behind
+her, as she emerged into the porch.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to see Mrs. Coppinger,&rdquo; said the old
+man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry&mdash;you cannot,&rdquo; answered Miss Trevisa.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is not a fit hour at which to call.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I see her if I come at any other hour?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why may I not see her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is unwell.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If she is unwell, then I am very certain she would be
+glad to see Uncle Zachie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of that I am no judge, but you cannot be admitted
+now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Name the day, the hour, when I may.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I am not at liberty to do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What ails her? Where is Jamie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>315]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Jamie is here&mdash;in good hands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Judith.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is in good hands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In good hands!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Menaida, &ldquo;I should
+like to see the good, clean hands worn by anyone in this
+house, except my dear, innocent little Judith. I must
+and will see her. I must know from her own lips how
+she is. I must see that she is happy&mdash;or at least not
+maltreated.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your words are an insult to me, her aunt, and to
+Captain Coppinger, her husband,&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa,
+haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me have a word with Captain Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is not at home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not at home!&mdash;I hear a great deal of noise. There
+must be a number of guests in the hall. Who is entertaining
+them, you or Judith!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is no concern of yours, Mr. Menaida.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not believe that Captain Coppinger is not at
+home. I insist on seeing him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Were you to see him&mdash;you would regret it afterwards.
+He is not a person to receive impertinences and pass
+them over. You have already behaved in a most indecent
+manner, in encouraging my niece to visit your
+house, and sit, and talk, and walk with, and call by his
+Christian name, that young fellow, your son.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oliver!&rdquo; Mr. Menaida was staggered. It had never
+occurred to his fuddled, yet simple mind, that the intimacy
+that had sprung up between the young people
+was capable of misinterpretation. The sense that he
+had laid himself open to this charge made him very
+angry, not with himself, but with Coppinger and with
+Miss Trevisa.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you what,&rdquo; said the old man, &ldquo;if you will not
+let me in I suppose you will not object to my writing a
+line to Judith?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have received orders to allow of no communication
+of any kind whatsoever between my niece and you or
+your house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have received orders&mdash;from Coppinger?&rdquo; the
+old man flamed with anger. &ldquo;Wait a bit! There is no
+command issued that you are not to take a message from
+me to your master?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He put his hand into his pocket, pulled out a note-book,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>316]</a></span>
+and tore out of it a page. Then, by the light from the
+hall window, he scribbled on it a few lines in pencil.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Sir!</span>&mdash;You are a scoundrel. You bully your wife.
+You rob, and attempt to murder those who are shipwrecked.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Zachary
+Menaida.</span>&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There,&rdquo; said the old man, &ldquo;that will draw him, and I
+shall see him, and have it out with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He had wafers in his pocket-book. He wetted and
+sealed the note. Then he considered that he had not
+said enough, so he opened the page again, and added:
+&ldquo;I shall tell all the world what I know about you.&rdquo;
+Then he fastened the note again, and directed it. But
+as it suddenly occurred to him that Captain Coppinger
+might refuse to open the letter, he added on the outside,
+&ldquo;The contents I know by heart, and shall proclaim them
+on the house-tops.&rdquo; He thrust the note into Miss Trevisa&rsquo;s
+hand, and turned his back on the house, and
+walked home snorting and muttering. On reaching
+Polzeath, however, he had cooled, and thought that
+possibly he had done a very foolish thing, and that
+most certainly he had in no way helped himself to what
+he desired, to see Judith again. Moreover, with a qualm,
+he became aware that Oliver, on his return from Bristol,
+would in all probability greatly disapprove of this fiery
+outburst of temper. To what would it lead? <em>Could</em> he
+fight Captain Coppinger? If it came to that, he was
+ready. With all his faults Mr. Menaida was no coward.</p>
+
+<p>On entering his house he found Oliver there, just
+arrived from Camelford. He at once told him what he
+had done. Oliver did not reproach him; he merely said,
+&ldquo;A declaration of war, father! and a declaration before
+we are quite prepared.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well&mdash;I suppose so. I could not help myself. I was
+so incensed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The thing we have to consider,&rdquo; said Oliver, &ldquo;is
+what Judith wishes, and how it is to be carried out.
+Some communication must be opened with her. If she
+desires to leave the house of that fellow, we must get
+her away. If, however, she elects to remain, our hands
+are tied: we can do nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is very unfortunate that Jamie is no longer here;
+we could have sent her a letter through him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>317]</a></span>
+&ldquo;He has been removed to prevent anything of the
+sort taking place.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Oliver started up. &ldquo;I will go and reconnoitre,
+myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the father. &ldquo;Leave all to me. You must
+on no account meddle in this matter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because&rdquo;&mdash;the old man coughed. &ldquo;Do you not understand&mdash;you
+are a young man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver colored, and said no more. He had not great
+confidence in his father&rsquo;s being able to do anything
+effectual for Judith. The step he had recently taken
+was injudicious and dangerous, and could further the
+end in view in no way.</p>
+
+<p>He said no more to old Mr. Menaida, but he resolved
+to act himself, in spite of the remonstrance made and the
+objection raised by his father. No sooner was the elder
+man gone to bed, than he sallied forth and took the
+direction of Pentyre. It was a moonlight night. Clouds
+indeed rolled over the sky, and for awhile obscured the
+moon, but a moment after it flared forth again. A little
+snow had fallen and frosted the ground, making everything
+unburied by the white flakes to seem inky black.
+A cold wind whistled mournfully over the country. Oliver
+walked on, not feeling the cold, so glowing were his
+thoughts, and came within sight of the Glaze. His
+father had informed him that there were guests in the
+hall; but when he approached the house, he could see
+no lights from the windows. Indeed, the whole house
+was dark, as though everyone in it were asleep, or it
+were an uninhabited ruin. That most of the windows
+had shutters he was aware, and that these might be shut
+so as to exclude the chance of any ray issuing he also
+knew. He could not therefore conclude that all the
+household had retired for the night.</p>
+
+<p>The moon was near its full. It hung high aloft in an
+almost cloudless sky. The air was comparatively still&mdash;still
+it never is on that coast, nor is it ever unthrilled
+by sound. Now, above the throb of the ocean, could be
+heard the shrill clatter and cry of the gulls. They were
+not asleep; they were about, fishing or quarrelling in
+the silver light.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver rather wondered at the house being so hushed&mdash;wondered
+that the guests were all dismissed. He
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>318]</a></span>
+knew in which wing of the mansion was Judith&rsquo;s room,
+and also which was Judith&rsquo;s window. The pure white
+light shone on the face of the house and glittered in the
+window-panes.</p>
+
+<p>As Oliver looked, thinking and wondering, he saw the
+casement opened, and Judith appeared at it, leaned with
+her elbow on the sill, and rested her face in her hand,
+looking up at the moon. The light air just lifted her
+fine hair. Oliver noticed how delicately pale and fragile
+she seemed&mdash;white as a gull, fragile as porcelain. He
+would not disturb her for a moment or two; he stood
+watching, with an oppression on his heart, and with a
+film forming over his eyes. Could nothing be done for
+the little creature? She was moped up in her room.
+She was imprisoned in this house, and she was wasting,
+dying in confinement.</p>
+
+<p>And now he stole noiselessly nearer. There was an old
+cattle-shed adjoining the house, that had lost its roof.
+Coppinger concerned himself little about agriculture,
+and the shed that had once housed cows had been suffered
+to fall to ruin, the slates had been blown off, then
+the rain had wetted and rotted the rafters, and finally
+the decayed rafters had fallen with their remaining load
+of slates, leaving the walls alone standing.</p>
+
+<p>Up one of the sides of this ruinous shed Oliver
+climbed, and then mounted to the gable, whence he
+could speak to Judith. But she must have heard him,
+and been alarmed, for she hastily closed the casement.
+Oliver, however, did not abandon his purpose. He
+broke off particles of mortar from the gable of the cow-house
+and threw them cautiously against the window.
+No notice was taken of the first or the second particle
+that clickered against a pane; but at the third a shadow
+appeared at the window, as though Judith had come to
+the casement to look out. Oliver was convinced that
+he could be seen; as he was on the very summit of the
+gable, and he raised his hands and arms to ensure attention.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the shadow was withdrawn. Then hastily
+he drew forth a scrap of paper, on which he had written
+a few words before he left his father&rsquo;s house, in
+the hopes of obtaining a chance of passing it to Judith,
+through Jamie, or by bribing a servant. This he now
+wrapped round a bit of stone and fastened it with a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>319]</a></span>
+thread. Next moment the casement was opened and
+the shadow reappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Back!&rdquo; whispered Oliver, sufficiently loud to be
+heard, and he dexterously threw the stone and the letter
+through the open window.</p>
+
+<p>Next moment the casement was shut and the curtains
+were drawn.</p>
+
+<p>He waited for full a quarter of an hour but no answer
+was returned.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>320]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XLIII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">THE SECOND TIME.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>No sooner had Oliver thrown the stone with note tied
+round it into Judith&rsquo;s room through the window, than
+he descended from a position which he esteemed too
+conspicuous should anyone happen to be about in the
+night near the house. He ensconced himself beneath
+the cow-shed wall in the shadow, where concealed, but
+was ready should the casement open to step forth and
+show himself.</p>
+
+<p>He had not been there many minutes before he heard
+steps and voices, one of which he immediately recognized
+as that of Cruel Coppinger. Oliver had not been sufficiently
+long in the neighborhood to know the men in it
+by their voices, but looking round the corner of the wall
+he saw two figures against the horizon, one with hands
+in his pockets, and by the general slouch, he thought
+that he recognized the sexton of S. Enodoc.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Black Prince will be in before long,&rdquo; said Coppinger.
+&ldquo;I mean next week or fortnight, and I must
+have the goods shored here, this time. She will stand
+off Porth-leze, and mind you get information conveyed
+to the captain of the coast-guard that she will run her
+cargo there. Remember that. We must have a clear
+coast here. The stores are empty and must be refilled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, your honor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have furnished him with the key to the signals?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Cap&rsquo;n.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And from Porth-leze there are to be signals to the
+Black Prince to come on here&mdash;but so that they may be
+read the other way&mdash;you understand?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Cap&rsquo;n.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what do they give you every time you carry
+them a bit of information?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A shilling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>321]</a></span>
+&ldquo;A munificent government payment! and what did
+they give you for the false code of signals?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Half a crown.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then here is half a guinea&mdash;and a crown for every lie
+you impose on them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Coppinger and the sexton went further. As soon
+as Oliver thought he could escape unobserved he withdrew
+and returned to Polzeath.</p>
+
+<p>Next day he had a talk with his father.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have had opinions, in Bristol,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;relative to
+the position of Judith.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;From whom?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;From lawyers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well&mdash;and what did they say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One said one thing and one another. I stated the
+case of her marriage, its incompletion, the unsigned
+register, and one opinion was that nevertheless she was
+Mrs. Coppinger. But another opinion was that, in consequence
+of the incompleteness of the marriage, it was
+none&mdash;she was Miss Trevisa. Father, before I went to
+the barristers and obtained their opinions, I was as wise
+as I am now, for I knew then, what I know now, that she
+is either Mrs. Coppinger, or else that she is Miss Trevisa.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I could have told you as much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It seems to me&mdash;but I may be uncharitable,&rdquo; said
+Oliver, grimly, &ldquo;that the opinion given was this way
+or that way according as I showed myself interested
+for the legality or against the legality of the marriage.
+Both of those to whom I applied regarded the
+case as interesting and deserving of being thrashed out
+in a court of law, and gave their opinions so as to induce
+me to embark in a suit. You understand what I mean,
+father? When I seemed urgent that the marriage should
+be pronounced none at all, then the verdict of the consulting
+barrister was that it was no marriage at all, and
+very good reasons he was able to produce to show that.
+But when I let it be supposed that my object was to get
+this marriage established against certain parties keenly
+interested in disputing it, I got an opinion that it was a
+good and legal marriage, and very good reasons were
+produced to sustain this conclusion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I could have told you as much&mdash;and this has cost you
+money?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>322]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Yes&mdash;naturally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And left you without any satisfaction?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No satisfaction is to be got out of law&mdash;that is why I
+took to stuffing birds.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is that noise at the door?&rdquo; asked Oliver.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is some one trying to come in, and fumbling at
+the hasp,&rdquo; said his father.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver went to the door and opened it&mdash;to find Jamie
+there, trembling, white, and apparently about to faint.
+He could not speak, but he held out a note to Oliver.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter with you?&rdquo; asked the young
+man.</p>
+
+<p>The boy, however, did not answer, but ran to Mr. Menaida,
+and crouched behind him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has been frightened,&rdquo; said the old man. &ldquo;Leave
+him alone. He will come round presently and I will
+give him a drop of spirits to rouse him up. What letter
+is that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver looked at the little note given him. It had
+been sealed, but torn open afterward. It was addressed
+to him, and across the address was written in bold,
+coarse letters with a pencil, &ldquo;Seen and passed. C.&nbsp;C.&rdquo;
+Oliver opened the letter and read as follows:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;I pray you leave me. Do not trouble yourself about
+me. Nothing can now be done for me. My great concern
+is for Jamie. But I entreat you to be very cautious
+about yourself where you go. You are in danger. Your
+life is threatened, and you do not know it. I must not
+explain myself, but I warn you. Go out of the country&mdash;that
+would be best. Go back to Portugal. I shall not
+be at ease in my mind till I know that you are gone, and
+gone unhurt. My dear love to Mr. Menaida&mdash;Judith.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The hand that had written this letter had shaken, the
+letters were hastily and imperfectly formed. Was this
+the hand of Judith who had taught Jamie caligraphy,
+had written out his copies as neatly and beautifully as
+copper-plate?</p>
+
+<p>Judith had sent him this answer by her brother, and
+Jamie had been stopped, forced to deliver up the missive,
+which Coppinger had opened and read. Oliver did not
+for a moment doubt <em>whence</em> the danger sprang with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>323]</a></span>
+which he was menaced. Coppinger had suffered the
+warning to be conveyed to him with contemptuous indifference&mdash;it
+was as though he had scored across the
+letter&mdash;&ldquo;Be forewarned, take what precautions you will&mdash;you
+shall not escape me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The first challenge had come from old Menaida, but
+Coppinger passed over that as undeserving of attention,
+but he proclaimed his readiness to cross swords with the
+young man. And Oliver could not deny that he had given
+occasion for this. Without counting the cost, without
+considering the risk; nay, further, without weighing the
+right and wrong in the matter, Oliver had allowed himself
+to slip into terms of some familiarity with Judith,
+harmless enough were she unmarried, but hardly calculated
+to be so regarded by a husband. They had come
+to consider each other as cousins, or they had pretended
+so to consider each other, so as to justify a half-affectionate,
+half-intimate association, and before he was aware of
+it Oliver had lost his heart. He could not and he would
+not regard Judith as the wife of Coppinger, because he
+knew that she absolutely refused to be so regarded by
+him, by herself, by his father, though by appearing at
+the ball with Coppinger, by living in his house, she
+allowed the world to so consider her. Was she his wife?
+He could not suppose it when she had refused to conclude
+the marriage ceremony, when there was no documentary
+evidence for the marriage. Let the question
+be mooted in a court of law; what could the witnesses
+say, but that she had fainted, and that all the latter portion
+of the ceremony had been performed over her when
+unconscious, and that on her recovery of her faculties
+she had resolutely persisted in resistance to the affixing
+of her signature to the register.</p>
+
+<p>With respect to Judith&rsquo;s feelings toward himself Oliver
+was ignorant. She had taken pleasure in his society,
+because he had made himself agreeable to her, and his
+company was a relief to her after the solitude of Pentyre
+and the association there with persons with whom
+she was wholly out of sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>His quarrel with Coppinger had shifted ground. At
+first he had resolved, should occasion offer, to conclude
+with him the contest begun on the wreck, and to chastise
+him for his conduct on that night. Now, he thought
+little of that cause of resentment, he desired to punish
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>324]</a></span>
+him for having been the occasion of so much misery to
+Judith. He could not now drive from his head the
+scene of the girl&rsquo;s wan face at the window, looking up
+at the moon.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver would shrink from doing anything dishonorable,
+but it did not seem to him that there could be
+aught wrong and unbecoming a gentleman in endeavoring
+to snatch this hapless child from the claws of the
+wild beast that had struck it down.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, father,&rdquo; said he hastily, as the old fellow was
+pouring out a pretty strong dose of his great specific
+and about to administer it to Jamie, &ldquo;no father, it is
+not that the boy wants; and remember how strongly
+Judith objects to his being given spirits.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear, dear!&rdquo; exclaimed Uncle Zachie, &ldquo;to be sure
+she does, and she made me promise not to give him any.
+But this is an exceptional case.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let him come to me, I will soothe him. The child
+is frightened, or stay, get him to help you with that
+kittiwake. Jamie, father can&rsquo;t get the bird to look natural;
+his head does not seem to me to be right. Did you
+ever see a kittiwake turn his neck in that fashion? I
+wish you would put your fingers to the throat, and bend it
+about, and set the wadding where it ought to be. Father
+and I can&rsquo;t agree about it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is wrong,&rdquo; said Jamie. &ldquo;Look, this is the way.&rdquo;
+His mind was diverted. Always volatile, always ready
+to be turned from one thing to another, Oliver had succeeded
+in interesting him, and had made him forget for
+a moment the terrors that had shaken him.</p>
+
+<p>After Jamie had been in the house for half an hour,
+Oliver advised him to return to the Glaze. He would
+give him no message, verbal or written. But the
+thought of having to return renewed the poor child&rsquo;s
+fears, and Oliver could hardly allay them by promising
+to accompany him part of the way.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver was careful not to speak to him on the subject
+of his alarm, but he gathered from his disjointed talk
+that Judith had given him the note and impressed on
+him that it was to be delivered as secretly as possible;
+that Coppinger had intercepted him, and suspecting
+something, had threatened and frightened him into
+divulging the truth. Then Captain Cruel had read the
+letter, scored over it some words in pencil, given it back
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>325]</a></span>
+to him, and ordered him to fulfil his commission, to deliver
+the note.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look you here, Jamie,&rdquo; was Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s parting
+injunction to the lad as he left the house, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s no
+reason for you to be idle when at Pentyre. You can
+make friends with some of the men and get birds shot.
+I don&rsquo;t advise your having a gun, you are not careful
+enough. But if they shoot birds you may amuse your
+leisure in skinning them, and I gave Judith arsenic for
+you. She keeps it in her workbox, and will let you have
+sufficient for your purpose as you need it. I would not
+give it to you, as it might be dangerous in your hands
+as a gun. It is a deadly poison, and with carelessness
+you might kill a man. But go to Judith when you have
+a skin ready to dress and she will see that you have sufficient
+for the dressing. There, good-by, and bring me
+some skins shortly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver accompanied the boy as far as the gate that
+led into the lane between the walls enclosing the fields
+of the Pentyre estate. Jamie pressed him to come farther,
+but this the young man would not do. He bade the
+poor lad farewell, bid him divert himself as his father
+had advised, with bird stuffing, and remained at the gate
+watching him depart. The boy&rsquo;s face and feebleness
+touched and stirred the heart of Oliver. The face reminded
+him so strongly of his twin sister, but it was the
+shadow, the pale shadow of Judith only, without the intelligence,
+the character, and the force. And the helplessness
+of the child, his desolation, his condition of
+nervous alarm roused the young man&rsquo;s pity. He was
+startled by a shot, that struck his gray hat simultaneously
+with the report.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment he sprang over the hedge in the direction
+whence the smoke rose, and came upon Cruel Coppinger
+with a gun.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you!&rdquo; said the latter, with a sneer, &ldquo;I thought
+I was shooting a rabbit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is the second time,&rdquo; said Oliver.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The first,&rdquo; was Coppinger&rsquo;s correction.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not so&mdash;the second time you have levelled at me.
+The first was on the wreck when I struck up your hand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger shrugged his shoulders. &ldquo;It is immaterial.
+The third time is lucky, folks say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The two men looked at each other with hostility.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>326]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Your father has insulted me,&rdquo; said Coppinger. &ldquo;Are
+you ready to take up his cause? I will not fight an old
+fool.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am ready to take up his cause, mine also, and that
+of&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Oliver checked himself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And that of whom?&rdquo; asked Coppinger, white with
+rage, and in a quivering voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The cause of my father and mine own will suffice,&rdquo;
+said Oliver.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And when shall we meet?&rdquo; asked Captain Cruel,
+leaning on his gun and glaring at his young antagonist
+over it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When and where suits me,&rdquo; answered Oliver, coldly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And when and where may that be?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When and where!&mdash;when and where I can come suddenly
+on you as you came on me upon the wreck. With
+such as you&mdash;one does not observe the ordinary rules.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; shouted Coppinger. &ldquo;When and where
+suits you, and when and where suits me&mdash;that is, whenever
+we meet again&mdash;we meet finally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then each turned and strode away.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>327]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XLIV.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">THE WHIP FALLS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>For many days Judith had been as a prisoner in the
+house, in her room. Some one had spoken to Coppinger
+and had roused his suspicions, excited his jealousy.
+He had forbidden her visits to Polzeath; and to prevent
+communication between her and the Menaidas, father
+and son, he had removed Jamie to Pentyre Glaze.</p>
+
+<p>Angry and jealous he was. Time had passed, and still
+he had not advanced a step, rather he had lost ground.
+Judith&rsquo;s hopes that he was not what he had been represented,
+were dashed. However plausible might be his
+story to account for the jewels, she did not believe it.</p>
+
+<p>Why was Judith not submissive? Coppinger could
+now only conclude that she had formed an attachment
+for Oliver Menaida&mdash;for that young man whom she
+singled out, greeted with a smile, and called by his
+Christian name. He had heard of how she had made
+daily visits to the house of his father, how Oliver had
+been seen attending her home, and his heart foamed
+with rage and jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>She had no desire to go anywhere, now that she was
+forbidden to go to Polzeath, and when she knew that she
+was watched. She would not descend to the hall and mix
+with the company often assembled there, and though she
+occasionally went there when Coppinger was alone, took
+her knitting and sat by the fire, and attempted to make
+conversation about ordinary matters, yet his temper, his
+outbursts of rancor, his impatience of every other topic
+save their relations to each other, and his hatred of the
+Menaidas, made it intolerable for her to be with him
+alone, and she desisted from seeking the hall. This incensed
+him, and he occasionally went up-stairs, sought
+her out and insisted on her coming down. She would
+obey, but some outbreak would speedily drive her from
+his presence again.</p>
+
+<p>Their relations were more strained than ever. His
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>328]</a></span>
+love for her had lost the complexion of love and had assumed
+that of jealousy. His tenderness and gentleness
+toward her had been fed by hope, and when hope died
+they vanished. Even that reverence for her innocence
+and the respect for her character that he had shown
+was dissipated by the stormy gusts of jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Trevisa was no more a help and stay to the poor
+girl than she had been previously. She was soured
+and embittered, for her ambition to be out of the house
+and in Othello Cottage had been frustrated. Coppinger
+would not let her go till he and his wife had come
+to more friendly terms. On her chimney-piece were
+two bunches of lavender, old lavender from the rectory
+garden of the preceding year. They had become so
+dry that the seeds fell out, and they no longer exhaled
+scent unless pressed.</p>
+
+<p>Judith stood at her chimney-piece pressing her finger
+on the dropped seeds, and picking them up by this
+means to throw them into the small fire that smouldered
+in the grate. At first she went on listlessly picking
+up a seed and casting it into the fire, actuated by
+her innate love of order, without much thought&mdash;rather
+without any thought&mdash;for her mind was engaged over the
+letter of Oliver and his visit the previous night outside.
+But after a while, while thus gathering the grains of
+lavender, she came to associate them with her trouble,
+and as she thought&mdash;&ldquo;Is there any escape for me, any
+happiness in store?&rdquo;&mdash;she picked up a seed and cast it
+into the fire. Then she asked: &ldquo;Is there any other escape
+for me than to die&mdash;to die and be with dear papa
+again, now not in S. Enodoc Rectory garden, but in the
+garden of Paradise?&rdquo; And again she picked up and
+cast away a grain. Then, as she touched her fingertip
+with her tongue and applied it to another lavender seed,
+she said: &ldquo;Or must this go on&mdash;this nightmare of
+wretchedness, of persecution, of weariness to death without
+dying, for years?&rdquo; And she cast away the seed
+shudderingly. &ldquo;Or&rdquo;&mdash;and again, now without touching
+her finger with her tongue, as though the last thought
+had contaminated it&mdash;&ldquo;or will he finally break and subdue
+me, destroy me and Jamie, soul and body?&rdquo; Shivering
+at the thought she hardly dare to touch a seed,
+but forced herself to do so, raised one, and hastily shook
+it from her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>329]</a></span>
+Thus she continued ringing the change, never formulating
+any scheme of happiness for herself&mdash;certainly, in
+her white, guileless mind, not in any way associating
+Oliver with happiness, save as one who might by some
+means effect her discharge from this bondage&mdash;but he
+was not linked, not woven up with any thought of the
+future.</p>
+
+<p>The wind clickered at the casement. She had a window
+toward the sea; another, opposite, toward the land.
+Hers was a transparent chamber, and her mind had
+been transparent. Only now, timidly, doubtfully, not
+knowing herself why, did she draw a blind down over
+her soul, as though there were something there that she
+would not have all the world see, and yet which was in
+itself innocent. Then a new fear woke up in her, lest
+she should go mad. Day after day, night after night,
+was spent in the same revolution of distressing thought,
+in the same bringing up and reconsidering of old difficulties,
+questions concerning Coppinger, questions concerning
+Jamie, questions concerning her own power of
+endurance and resistance. Was it possible that this
+could go on without driving her mad?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One thing I see,&rdquo; murmured she; &ldquo;all steps are
+broken away under me on the stair, and one thing alone
+remains for me to cling to&mdash;one only thing&mdash;my understanding.
+That&rdquo;&mdash;she put her hands to her head&mdash;&ldquo;that
+is all I have left. My name is gone from me. My
+friends I am separated from. My brother may not be
+with me. My happiness is all gone. My health may
+break down, but to a clear understanding I must hold;
+if that fails me I am lost&mdash;lost indeed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lost indeed!&rdquo; exclaimed Coppinger, entering abruptly.
+He had caught her last words. He came in in
+white rage, blinded and forgetful in his passion, and
+with his hat on. There was a day when he entered the
+boudoir with his head covered, and Judith, without a
+word, by the mere force of her character shining out of
+her clear eyes, had made him retreat and uncover. It
+was not so now. She was careless whether he wore the
+hat or not when he entered her room. &ldquo;So!&rdquo; said he,
+in a voice that foamed out of his mouth, &ldquo;letters pass
+between you! Letters&mdash;I have read that you sent. I
+stayed your messenger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; answered Judith, with such composure as she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>330]</a></span>
+could muster. She had already passed through several
+stormy scenes with him, and knew that her only security
+lay in self-restraint. &ldquo;There was naught in it that
+you might not read. What did I say? That my condition
+was fixed&mdash;that none could alter it; that is true.
+That my great care and sorrow of heart is for Jamie;
+that is true. That Oliver Menaida has been threatened;
+that also is true. I have heard you speak words against
+him of no good.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will make good my words.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wrote, and hoped to save him from a danger, and
+you from a crime.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger laughed. &ldquo;I have sent on the letter. Let
+him take what precautions he will. I will chastise him.
+No man ever crossed me yet but was brought to bite the
+dust.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has not harmed you, Captain Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He! Can I endure that you should call him by his
+Christian name, while I am but Captain Coppinger?
+That you should seek him out, laugh, and talk, and flirt
+with him&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Coppinger!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; raged he, &ldquo;always Captain Coppinger, or
+Captain Cruel, and he is dear Oliver! sweet Oliver!&rdquo;
+He well-nigh suffocated in his fury.</p>
+
+<p>Judith drew herself up and folded her arms. She had
+in one hand a sprig of lavender from which she had been
+shaking the over-ripe grains. She turned deadly white.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me up his letter. Yours was an answer!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will give it to you,&rdquo; answered Judith, and she went
+to her workbox, raised the lid, then the little tray containing
+reels, and from beneath it extracted a crumpled
+scrap of paper. She handed it calmly, haughtily to
+Coppinger, then folded her arms again, one hand still
+holding the bunch of lavender.</p>
+
+<p>The letter was short. Coppinger&rsquo;s hand shook with
+passion so that he could hardly hold it with sufficient
+steadiness to read it. It ran as follows:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must know your wishes, dear Judith. Do you intend
+to remain in that den of wreckers and cut-throats?
+or do you desire that your friends should bestir themselves
+to obtain your release? Tell us, in one word,
+what to do, or rather what are your wishes, and we will
+do what we can.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>331]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Well!&rdquo; said Coppinger, looking up. &ldquo;And your
+answer is to the point&mdash;you wish to stay.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not answer thus. I said&mdash;leave me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And never intended that he should leave you,&rdquo; raged
+Coppinger. He came close up to her with his eyes glittering,
+his nostrils distended and snorting and his hands
+clinched.</p>
+
+<p>Judith loosened her arms, and with her right hand
+swept a space before her with the bunch of lavender. He
+should not approach her within arm&rsquo;s length; the lavender
+marked the limit beyond which he might not draw
+near.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, hear me!&rdquo; said Coppinger. &ldquo;I have been too
+indulgent. I have humored you as a spoilt child. Because
+you willed this or that, I have submitted. But the
+time for humoring is over. I can endure this suspense
+no longer. Either you are my wife or you are not. I
+will suffer no trifling over this any longer. You have as
+it were put your lips to mine, and then sharply drawn
+them away&mdash;and now offer them to another.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Silence!&rdquo; exclaimed Judith. &ldquo;You insult me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You insult and outrage me!&rdquo; said Coppinger, &ldquo;when
+you run from your home to chatter with and walk with
+this Oliver, and never deign to speak to me. When he
+is your dear Oliver, and I am only Captain Coppinger;
+when you have smiles for him you have black looks for me.
+Is not that insulting, galling, stinging, maddening?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith was silent. Her throat swelled. There was
+some truth in what he said; but, in the sight of heaven,
+she was guiltless of ever having thought of wrong, of
+having supposed for a moment that what she had allowed
+herself had not been harmless.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are silent,&rdquo; said Coppinger. &ldquo;Now hearken!
+With this moment I turn over the page of humoring
+your fancies and yielding to your follies. I have never
+pressed you to sign that register&mdash;I have trusted to your
+good sense and good feeling. You cannot go back.
+Even if you desire it, you cannot undo what has been
+done. Mine you are, mine you shall be&mdash;mine wholly
+and always. Do you hear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And agree?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was silent a moment, with clinched teeth and hands
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>332]</a></span>
+looking at her, with eyes that smote her, as though they
+were bullets.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Your answer is no.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My answer is no, so help me God.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said he, between his teeth. &ldquo;Then we
+open a new chapter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What chapter is that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is that of compulsion. That of solicitation is
+closed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You cannot, whilst I have my senses. What!&rdquo; She
+saw that he had a great riding-whip in his hand. &ldquo;What&mdash;the
+old story again! You will strike me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;not you. I will lash you into submission&mdash;through
+Jamie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She uttered a cry, dropped the lavender, that became
+scattered before her, and held up her hands in mute entreaty.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I owe him chastisement. I have owed it him for
+many a day&mdash;and to-day above all&mdash;as a go-between.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith could not speak. She remained as one frozen&mdash;in
+one attitude, in one spot, speechless. She could
+not stir, she could not utter a word of entreaty, as Coppinger
+left the room.</p>
+
+<p>In another minute a loud and shrill cry reached her
+ears from the court into which one of her windows
+looked. She knew the cry. It was that of her twin
+brother, and it thrilled through her heart, quivered in
+every nerve of her whole frame.</p>
+
+<p>She could hear what followed; but she could not stir.
+She was rooted by her feet to the floor, but she writhed
+there. It was as though every blow dealt the boy outside
+fell on her: she bent, she quivered, her lips parted,
+but cry she could not, the sweat rolled off her brow; she
+beat with her hands in the air. Now she thrilled up
+with uplifted arms, on tip-toe, then sank&mdash;it was like a
+flame flickering in a socket before it expires: it dances,
+it curls, it shoots up in a tongue, it sinks into a bead of
+light, it rolls on one side, it sways to the other, it leaps
+from the wick high into the air, and drops again. It was
+so with Judith&mdash;every stroke dealt, every scream of the
+tortured boy, every toss of his suffering frame, was repeated
+in her room, by her&mdash;in supreme, unspeaking
+anguish, too intense for sound to issue from her contracted
+throat.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>333]</a></span>
+Then all was still, and Judith had sunk to her knees
+on the scattered lavender, extending her arms, clasping
+her hands, spreading them again, again beating her
+palms together, in a vague, unconscious way, as if in
+breathing she could not gain breath enough without
+this expansion and stretching forth of her arms.</p>
+
+<p>But, all at once, before her stood Coppinger, the whip
+in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well! what now is your answer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She breathed fast for some moments, laboring for expression.
+Then she reared herself up and tried to speak,
+but could not. Before her, threshed out on the floor,
+were the lavender seeds. They lay thick in a film over
+the boards in one place. She put her finger among them
+and drew No.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>334]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XLV.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">GONE FROM ITS PLACE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>There are persons, they are not many, on whom Luck
+smiles and showers gold. Not a steady daily downpour
+of money but, whenever a little cloud darkens their sky,
+that same little cloud, which to others would be mere
+gloom, opens and discharges on them a sprinkling of
+gold pieces.</p>
+
+<p>It is not always the case that those who have rich relatives
+come in for good things from them. In many
+cases there are such on whom Luck turns her back, but to
+those of whom we speak the rain of gold, and the snow
+of scrip and bonds come unexpectedly, but inevitably.
+Just as Pilatus catches every cloud that drifts over
+Switzerland, so do they by some fatality catch something
+out of every trouble, that tends materially to solace their
+feelings, lacerated by that trouble. But not so only.
+These little showers fall to them from relatives they have
+taken no trouble to keep on good terms with, from
+acquaintances whom they have cut, admirers whose good
+opinion they have not concerned themselves to cultivate,
+friends with whom they have quarrelled. Gideon&rsquo;s
+fleece, on one occasion, gathered to itself all the dew that
+fell, and left the grass of the field around quite dry. So
+do these fortunate persons concentrate on themselves,
+fortuitively it seems, the dew of richness that descends
+and might have, ought to have, dropped elsewhere; at all
+events, ought to have been more evenly and impartially
+distributed. Gideon&rsquo;s fleece, on another occasion was
+dry, when all the glebe was dripping. So is it with
+certain unfortunates, Luck never favors them. What they
+have expected and counted on they do not get, it is diverted,
+it drops round about them on every side, only on
+them it never falls.</p>
+
+<p>Now, Miss Trevisa cannot be said to have belonged to
+either of these classes. To the latter she had pertained
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>335]</a></span>
+till suddenly, from a quarter quite unregarded, there
+came down on her a very satisfactory little splash. Of
+relatives that were rich she had none, because she had no
+relatives at all. Of bosom friends she had none, for her
+bosom was of that unyielding nature, that no one would
+like to be taken to it. But, before the marriage of her
+brother, and before he became rector of S. Enodoc, when
+he was but a poor curate, she had been companion to a
+spinster lady, Miss Ceely, near S. Austell. Now the
+companion is supposed to be a person without an opinion
+of her own, always standing in a cringing position
+to receive the opinion of her mistress, then to turn it
+over and give it forth as her own. She is, if she be a
+proper companion, a mere echo of the sentiments of her
+employer. Moreover, she is expected to be amiable,
+never to resent a rude word, never to take umbrage at
+neglect, always to be ready to dance attendance on her
+mistress, and with enthusiasm of devotion, real or simulated,
+to carry out her most absurd wishes, unreasoningly.
+But Miss Trevisa had been, as a companion, all
+that a companion ought not to be. She had argued
+with Miss Ceely, invariably, had crossed her opinions,
+had grumbled at her when she asked that anything
+might be done, raised difficulties, piled up objections,
+blocked the way to whatever Miss Ceely particularly set
+the heart on having executed. The two ladies were
+always quarrelling, always calling each other names, and
+it was a marvel to the relatives of Miss Ceely that she
+and her companion hung together for longer than a
+month. Nevertheless they did. Miss Trevisa left the
+old lady when Mr. Peter Trevisa became rector of S. Enodoc,
+and then Miss Ceely obtained in her place quite
+an ideal companion, a very mirror&mdash;she had but to look
+on her face, smile, and a smile was repeated, weep, and
+tears came in the mirror. The new companion grovelled
+at her feet, licked the dust off her shoes, fawned on her
+hand, ran herself off her legs to serve her, grew gray
+under the misery of enduring Miss Ceely&rsquo;s jibes and
+sneers and insults, finally sacrificed her health in nursing
+her. When Miss Ceely&rsquo;s will was opened it was
+found that she had left nothing&mdash;not a farthing to this
+obsequious attendant, but had bequeathed fifteen hundred
+pounds, free of legacy duty, and all her furniture and
+her house to Miss Trevisa, with whom she had not kept
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>336]</a></span>
+up correspondence for twenty-three years. It really
+seemed as if leathery, rusty Aunt Dionysia, from being a
+dry Gideon&rsquo;s fleece, were about to be turned into a wet
+and wringable fleece. No one was more astounded than
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>It was now necessary that Miss Trevisa should go to
+S. Austell and see after what had come to her thus unsolicited
+and unexpectedly. All need for her to remain at
+Pentyre was at an end.</p>
+
+<p>Before she departed&mdash;not finally, but to see about the
+furniture that was now hers, and to make up her mind
+whether to keep or to sell it&mdash;she called Judith to her.</p>
+
+<p>That day, the events of which were given in last chapter,
+had produced a profound impression on Jamie. He
+had become gloomy, timid, and silent. His old idle
+chatter ceased. He clung to his sister, and accompanied
+her wherever she went; he could not endure to be with
+Coppinger. When he heard his voice, caught a glimpse
+of him, he ran away and hid. Jamie had been humored
+as a child, never beaten, scolded, put in a corner, sent to
+bed, cut off his pudding, but the rod had now been applied
+to his back and his first experience of corporal
+punishment was the cruel and vindictive hiding administered,
+not for any fault he had committed but because
+he had done his sister&rsquo;s bidding. He was filled with hatred
+of Coppinger, mingled with fear, and when alone with
+Judith would break out into exclamations of entreaty
+that she would run away with him, and of detestation
+of the man who held them there, as it were prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ju,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I wish he were dead. I hate him.
+Why doesn&rsquo;t God kill him and set us free!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At another time he said, &ldquo;Ju, dear! You do not love
+him. I wish I were a big strong man like Oliver, and
+I would do what Captain Cruel did.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Cruel shot at Oliver.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was the first tidings Judith had heard of the
+attempt on Oliver&rsquo;s life.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is a mean coward,&rdquo; said Jamie. &ldquo;He hid behind
+a hedge and shot at him. But he did not hurt him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;God preserved him,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why does not God preserve us! Why did God let
+that beast&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush, Jamie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>337]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I will not&mdash;that wretch&mdash;beat me? Why did He not
+send lightning and strike him dead?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot tell you, darling. We must wait and trust.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am tired of waiting and trusting. If I had a gun
+I would not shoot birds, I would go behind a hedge and
+shoot Captain Coppinger. There would be nothing
+wrong in that, Ju?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes there would. It would be a sin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not after he did that to Oliver.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would never&mdash;never love you, if you did that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You would always love me whatever I did,&rdquo; said
+Jamie. He spoke the truth, Judith knew it. Her eyes
+filled, she drew the boy to her passionately and kissed
+his golden head.</p>
+
+<p>Then came Aunt Dionysia and summoned her into her
+own room. Jamie followed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith,&rdquo; began Aunt Dunes, in her usual hard tones,
+and with the same frozen face, &ldquo;I wish you particularly
+to understand. Look here! You have caused me annoyance
+enough while I have been here. Now I shall
+have a house of my own at S. Austell, and if I choose to
+live in it I can. If I do not, I can let it, and live at
+Othello Cottage. I have not made up my mind what to
+do. Fifteen hundred pounds is a dirty little sum, and
+not half as much as ought to have been left me for all I
+had to bear from that old woman. I am glad for one
+thing that she has left me something, though not much.
+I should have despaired of her salvation had she not.
+However her heart was touched at the last, though not
+touched enough. Now what I want you to understand
+is this&mdash;it entirely depends on your conduct whether
+after my death this sum of fifteen hundred pounds and a
+beggarly sum of about five hundred I have of my own,
+comes to you or not. As long as this nonsense goes on
+between you and Captain Coppinger&mdash;you pretending
+you are not married, when you are, there is no security
+for me that you and Jamie may not come tumbling in
+upon me and become a burden to me. Captain Coppinger
+will not endure this fooling much longer. <em>He</em>
+can take advantage of your mistake. <em>He</em> can say&mdash;I am
+not married. Where is the evidence? Produce proof
+of the marriage having been solemnized&mdash;and then he
+may send you out of his house upon the downs in the
+cold. What would you be then, eh? All the world
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>338]</a></span>
+holds you to be Mrs. Coppinger. A nice state of affairs,
+if it wakes up one morning to hear that Mrs. Coppinger
+has been kicked out of the Glaze, that she never was the
+wife. What will the world say, eh? What sort of name
+will the world give you, when you have lived here as his
+wife.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I have not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lived here, gone to balls as his wife when you were
+not. What will the world call you, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith was silent, holding both her hands, open
+against her bosom. Jamie beside her, looking up in her
+face, not understanding what his aunt was saying.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well&mdash;or rather very ill!&rdquo; continued Miss
+Trevisa. &ldquo;And then you and this boy here will come to
+me to take you in, come and saddle yourselves on me,
+and eat up my little fund. That is what will be the end
+of it, if you remain in your folly. Go at once to the
+rector, and put your name where it should have been two
+months ago, and your position is secure, he cannot drive
+you away, disgusted at your stubbornness, and you will
+relieve me of a constant source of uneasiness. It is not
+that only, but I must care for the good name of Trevisa,
+which you happen to bear, that that name may not be
+trailed in the dust. The common sense of the matter is
+precisely what you cannot see. If you are not Coppinger&rsquo;s
+wife you should not be here. If you are Coppinger&rsquo;s
+wife, then your name should be in the register.
+Now here you have come. You have appeared in public
+with him. You have but one course open to you, and
+that is to secure your position and your name and honor.
+You cannot undo what is done, but you can complete
+what is done insufficiently. The choice between alternatives
+is no longer before you. If you had purposed to
+withdraw from marriage, break off the engagement, then
+you should not have come on to Pentyre, and remained
+here. As, however, you did this, there is absolutely
+nothing else to be done, but to sign the register. Do
+you hear me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you will obey?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pig-headed fool,&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa. &ldquo;Not one
+penny will I leave you. That I swear, if you remain
+obstinate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>339]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Do not let us say anything more about that, aunt.
+Now you are going away, is there anything connected
+with the house you wish me to attend to? That I will
+do readily.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, there are several things,&rdquo; growled Miss Trevisa,
+&ldquo;and, first of all, are you disposed to do anything, any
+common little kindness for the man whose bread you
+eat, whose roof covers you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, aunt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, then. Captain Coppinger has his bowl
+of porridge every morning. I suppose he was accustomed
+to it before he came into these parts, and he cannot
+breakfast without it. He says that our Cornish maids
+cannot make porridge properly, and I have been accustomed
+to see to it. Either it is lumpy, or it is watery,
+or it is saltless. Will you see to that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, aunt, willingly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to know how to make porridge, as you are
+more than half Scottish.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I certainly can make it. Dear papa always liked
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you will attend to that. If you are too high
+and too great a lady to put your hand to it yourself,
+you can see that the cook manages it aright. There is a
+new girl in now, who is a fool.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will make it myself. I will do all I can do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then take the keys. Now that I go, you must be
+mistress of the house. But for your folly, I might have
+been from here, and in my own house, or rather in that
+given me for my use, Othello Cottage. I was to have
+gone there directly after your marriage, I had furnished
+it, and made it comfortable, and then you took to your
+fantastic notions, and hung back, and refused to allow
+that you were married, and so I had to stick on here two
+months. Here, take the keys.&rdquo; Miss Trevisa almost
+flung them at her niece. &ldquo;Now I have two thousand
+pounds of my own, and a house at S. Austell, it does not
+become me to be doing menial service. Take the keys.
+I will never have them back.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Miss Trevisa was gone, and Judith was by herself
+at night, Jamie being asleep, she was able to think
+over calmly what her aunt had said. She concerned herself
+not the least, relative to the promise her aunt had
+made of leaving her two thousand pounds, were she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>340]</a></span>
+submissive, and her threat of disinheriting her, should she
+continue recalcitrant, but she did feel that there was
+truth in her aunt&rsquo;s words when she said that she, Judith,
+had placed herself in a wrong position&mdash;but it was a
+wrong position into which she had been forced, she had
+not voluntarily entered it. She had, indeed, consented
+to become Coppinger&rsquo;s wife, but when she found that
+Coppinger had employed Jamie to give signals that
+might mislead a vessel to its ruin she could not go further
+to meet him. Although he had endeavored to clear
+himself in her eyes, she did not believe him. She was
+convinced that he was guilty, though at moments she
+hoped, and tried to persuade herself that he was not.
+Then came the matter of the diamonds. There, again,
+the gravest suspicion rested on him. Again he had
+endeavored to exculpate himself, yet she could not believe
+that he was innocent. Till full confidence that he
+was blameless in these matters was restored, an insuperable
+wall divided them. Never would she belong to a
+man who was a wrecker, who belonged to that class of
+criminals her father had regarded with the utmost
+horror.</p>
+
+<p>Before she retired to bed, she picked up from under
+the fender the scrap of paper on which Oliver&rsquo;s message
+had been written. It had lain there unobserved where
+Coppinger had flung it, now, as she tidied her room, and
+arranged the fire-rug, she observed it. She smoothed it
+out, folded it, and went to her workbox to replace it
+where it had been before.</p>
+
+<p>She raised the lid, and was about to put the note
+among some other papers she had there, a letter of her
+mother&rsquo;s, a piece of her father&rsquo;s writing, some little accounts
+she had kept, when she was startled to see that
+the packet of arsenic Mr. Menaida had given her was
+missing.</p>
+
+<p>She turned out the contents of her workbox. It was
+nowhere to be found, either there, or in her drawers.
+Her aunt must have been prying into the box, have found
+and removed it, so Judith thought, and with this thought
+appeased her alarm. Perhaps, considering the danger
+of having arsenic about, Aunt Dionysia had done right
+in removing it. She had done wrong in doing so without
+speaking to Judith.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>341]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XLVI.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">A SECOND LIE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Next day, Miss Trevisa being gone, Judith had to attend
+to the work of the house. It was her manifest duty
+to do so. Hitherto she had shrunk from the responsibility,
+because she shrank from assuming a position in
+the house to which she refused to consider that she had
+a right. Judith was perfectly competent to manage an
+establishment, she had a clear head, a love of order, and
+a power of exacting obedience of servants without incessant
+reproof. Moreover, she had that faculty possessed
+by few of directing others in their work so that each
+moved along his or her own line and fulfilled the allotted
+work with ease. She had managed her father&rsquo;s
+house, and managed it admirably. She knew that, as
+the king&rsquo;s government must be carried on, so the
+routine of a household must be kept going. Judith had
+sufficient acquaintance also with servants to be aware
+that the wheel would stop or move spasmodically, unless
+an authoritative hand were applied to it to keep it in
+even revolution. She knew also that whatever happened
+in a house&mdash;a birth, a death, a wedding, an uproar&mdash;the
+round of common duties must be discharged, the meals
+prepared, the bread baked, the milk skimmed, the beds
+made, the carpets swept, the furniture dusted, the windows
+opened, the blinds drawn down, the table laid, the
+silver and glass burnished. Nothing save a fire which
+gutted a house must interfere with all this routine.
+Miss Trevisa was one of those ladies who, in their own
+opinion, are condemned by Providence never to have
+good servants. A benign Providence sheds good domestics
+into every other house, save that which she rules.
+She is born under a star which inexorably sends the
+scum and dregs of servantdom under her sceptre. Miss
+Trevisa regarded a servant as a cat regards a mouse, a
+dog regards a fox, and a dolphin a flying-fish, as something
+to be run after, snapped at, clawed, leaped upon,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>342]</a></span>
+worried perpetually. She was incapable of believing
+that there could be any good in a servant, that there was
+any other side to a domestic save a seamy side. She
+could make no allowance for ignorance, for weakness, for
+lightheartedness. A servant in her eyes must be a
+drudge ever working, never speaking, smiling, taking a
+hand off the duster, without a mind above flue and tea-leaves,
+and unable to soar above a cobweb; with a temper
+perfect in endurance of daily, hourly fault-finding,
+nagging, grumbling, a mind unambitious also of commendation.
+Miss Trevisa held that every servant that a
+malign Providence had sent her was clumsy, insolent,
+slatternly, unmethodical, idle, wasteful, a gossip, a gadabout,
+a liar, a thief, was dainty, greedy, one of a cursed
+generation; and when in the Psalms, David launched out
+in denunciation of the enemies of the Lord, Miss Trevisa,
+when she heard or read these Psalms, thought of servantdom.
+Servants were referred to when David said, &ldquo;Hide
+me from the insurrection of the wicked doers, who have
+whet their tongues like a sword, that they may privily
+shoot at him that is perfect,&rdquo; <i>i.e.</i>, me, was Miss Trevisa&rsquo;s
+comment. &ldquo;They encourage themselves in mischief;
+and commune among themselves how they may lay
+snares, and say, that no man shall see them.&rdquo; &ldquo;And
+how,&rdquo; said Miss Trevisa, &ldquo;can men be so blind as not to
+believe that the Bible is inspired when David hits the
+character of servants off to the life!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And not the Psalms only, but the Prophets were full
+of servants&rsquo; delinquencies. What were Tyre and Egypt
+but figures of servantdom shadowed before. What else
+did Isaiah lift up his testimony about, and Jeremiah
+lament over, but the iniquities of the kitchen and the servants&rsquo;
+hall. Miss Trevisa read her Bible, and great
+comfort did it afford her, because it did denounce the
+servant maids so unsparingly and prepared brimstone
+and outer darkness for them.</p>
+
+<p>Now Judith had seen and heard much of the way in
+which Miss Trevisa managed Captain Coppinger&rsquo;s house.
+Her room adjoined that of her aunt, and she knew that if
+her aunt were engaged on&mdash;it mattered not what absorbing
+work, embroidery, darning a stocking, reading a
+novel, saying her prayers, studying the cookery book&mdash;if
+a servant sneezed within a hundred yards, or upset a
+drop of water, or clanked a dust-pan, or clicked a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>343]</a></span>
+door-handle, Miss Trevisa would be distracted from her work
+and rush out of her room, just as a spider darts from its
+recess, and sweep down on the luckless servant to worry
+and abuse her.</p>
+
+<p>Judith, knowing this, knew also that the day of Miss
+Trevisa&rsquo;s departure would be marked with white chalk,
+and lead to a general relaxation of discipline, to an inhaling
+of long breaths, and a general stretching and taking
+of ease. It was necessary, therefore, that she should
+go round and see that the wheel was kept turning.</p>
+
+<p>To her surprise, on entering the hall, she found Captain
+Coppinger there.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I thought you were
+out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him and was struck with his appearance,
+the clay-like color of his face, the dark lines in it,
+the faded look in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you unwell?&rdquo; she asked; &ldquo;you really look ill.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am ill.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ill&mdash;what is the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A burning in my throat. Cramp and pains&mdash;but what
+is that to you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When did it come on?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But recently.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you not have a doctor to see you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A doctor!&mdash;no.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was the porridge as you liked it this morning? I
+made it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was good enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would you like more now?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And to-morrow morning, will you have the same?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;the same.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will make it again. Aunt said the new cook did
+not understand how to mix and boil it to your liking.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger nodded.</p>
+
+<p>Judith remained standing and observing him. Some
+faces when touched by pain and sickness are softened
+and sweetened. The hand of suffering passes over the
+countenance and brushes away all that is frivolous, sordid,
+vulgar; it gives dignity, purity, refinement, and
+shows what the inner soul might be were it not entangled
+and degraded by base association and pursuit.
+It is different with other faces, the hand of suffering
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>344]</a></span>
+films away the assumed expression of good nature, honesty,
+straightforwardness, and unmasks the evil inner
+man. The touch of pain had not improved the expression
+of Cruel Coppinger. It cannot, however, with justice
+be said that the gentler aspect of the man, which
+Judith had at one time seen, was an assumption. He
+was a man in whom there was a certain element of good,
+but it was mixed up with headlong wilfulness, utter
+selfishness, and resolution to have his own way at any
+cost.</p>
+
+<p>Judith could see, now that his face was pain-struck,
+how much of evil there was in the soul that had been
+disguised by a certain dash of masculine overbearing and
+brusqueness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you looking at?&rdquo; asked Coppinger, glancing
+up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was thinking,&rdquo; answered Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of you&mdash;of Wyvill, of the wreck on Doom Bar, of
+the jewels of Lady Knighton, and last of all of Jamie&rsquo;s
+maltreatment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what of all that?&rdquo; he said in irritable scorn.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I need not say. I have drawn my own conclusions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You torment me, you&mdash;when I am ill? They call me
+Cruel, but it is you who are cruel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith did not wish to be drawn into discussion that
+must be fruitless. She said, quietly, in altered tone,
+&ldquo;Can I get you anything to comfort you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;go your way. This will pass. Besides, it is
+naught to you. Go; I would be left alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith obeyed, but she was uneasy. She had never
+seen Coppinger look as he looked now. It was other,
+altogether, after he had broken his arm. Other, also,
+when for a day he was crippled with bruises, after the
+wreck. She looked into the hall several times during
+the day. In the afternoon he was easier, and went out;
+his mouth had been parched and burning, and he had
+been drinking milk. The empty glass was on the table.
+He would eat nothing at mid-day. He turned from food,
+and left the room for his own chamber.</p>
+
+<p>Judith was anxious. She more than once endeavored
+to draw Coppinger into conversation relative to himself,
+but he would not speak of what affected him. He was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>345]</a></span>
+annoyed and ashamed at being out of his usual rude
+health.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is naught,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but a bilious attack, and will
+pass. Leave me alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had been so busy all day, that she had seen little
+of Jamie. He had taken advantage of Captain Coppinger
+not being about, to give himself more license to roam
+than he had of late, and to go with his donkey on the cliffs.
+Anyhow Judith on this day did not have him hanging to
+her skirts. She was glad of it, for, though she loved
+him, he would have been an encumbrance when she was
+so busy.</p>
+
+<p>The last thing at night she did was to go to Coppinger
+to inquire what he would take. He desired nothing but
+spirits and milk. He thought that a milk-punch would
+give him ease and make him sleep. That he was weak
+and had suffered pain she saw, and she was full of pity
+for him. But this she did not like to exhibit, partly because
+he might misunderstand her feelings, and partly
+because he seemed irritated at being unwell, and at loss
+of power; irritated, at all events, at it being observed that
+he was not in his usual plenitude of strength and health.</p>
+
+<p>That night the Atlantic was troubled, and the wind
+carried the billows against the cliffs in a succession of
+rhythmic roars that filled the air with sound and made
+the earth quiver. Judith could not sleep, she listened
+to the thud of the water-heaps flung against the rocks;
+there was a clock on the stairs and in her wakefulness
+she listened to the tick of the clock, and the boom of
+the waves, now coming together, then one behind the
+other, now the wave-beat catching up the clock-tick, then
+falling in arrear, the ocean getting angry and making up
+its pace by a double beat. Moreover flakes of foam were
+carried on the wind and came, like snow, against her
+window that looked seaward striking the glass and adhering
+to it.</p>
+
+<p>As Judith lay watchful in the night her mind again
+recurred to the packet of arsenic that had been abstracted
+from her workbox. It was inconsiderate of her to have
+left it there; she ought to have locked her box. But
+who could have supposed that anyone would have gone
+to the box, raised the tray and searched the contents of
+the compartment beneath? Judith had been unaccustomed
+to lock up anything, because she had never had
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>346]</a></span>
+any secrets to hide from any eye. She again considered
+the probability of her aunt having removed it, and then
+it occurred to her that perhaps Miss Trevisa might have
+supposed that she&mdash;Judith&mdash;in a fit of revolt against
+the wretchedness of her life might be induced to take
+the poison herself and finish her miseries. &ldquo;It was absurd
+if Aunt Dunes thought that,&rdquo; said Judith to herself;
+&ldquo;she can little have known how my dear Papa&rsquo;s
+teaching has sunk into my heart, to suppose me capable
+of such a thing&mdash;and then&mdash;to run away like a coward
+and leave Jamie unprotected. It was too absurd.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Next morning Judith was in her room getting a large
+needle with which to hem a bit of carpet edge that had
+been fraying for the last five years, and which no one
+had thought of putting a thread to, and so arresting the
+disintegration. Jamie was in the room. Judith said to
+him:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, you have not been skinning and stuffing
+any birds lately, have you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Ju.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because I have missed&mdash;but, Jamie, I hope you have
+not been at my workbox?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What about your workbox, Ju?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She knew the boy so well, that her suspicions were at
+once aroused by this answer. When he had nothing to
+hide he replied with a direct negative or affirmative, but
+when he had done what his conscience would not quite
+allow was right, he fell into equivocation, and shuffled
+awkwardly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie,&rdquo; said Judith, looking him straight in the face,
+&ldquo;have you been to my box?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only just looked in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he ran to the window. &ldquo;Oh, do see, Ju, how
+patched the glass is with foam!&mdash;and is it not dirty?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie, come back. I want an answer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He had opened the casement and put his hand out and
+was wiping off the patches of froth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a lot of it there is, Ju.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come here, instantly, Jamie, and shut the window.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boy obeyed, creeping toward her sideways, with
+his head down.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie, did you lift the tray?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only on one side, just a little bit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you take anything from under the tray?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>347]</a></span>
+He did not answer immediately. She looked at him
+searchingly and in suspense. He never could endure
+this questioning look of hers, and he ran to her, put
+his arms round her waist, and clasped to her side, hid
+his face in her gown.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only a little.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A little what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie, no lies. There was a blue paper there containing
+poison, that you were not to have unless there
+were occasion for it&mdash;some bird skin to be preserved and
+dressed with it. Now, did you take that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go and bring it back to me immediately.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not? Where is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boy fidgeted, looked up in his sister&rsquo;s face to
+see what expression it bore, buried his head again, and
+said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ju! he is rightly called Cruel. I hate him, and so do
+you, don&rsquo;t you, Ju? I have put the arsenic into his oatmeal,
+and we will get rid of him and be free and go away.
+It will be jolly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie!&rdquo; with a cry of horror.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He won&rsquo;t whip me and scold you any more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie! Oh, my Lord, have pity on him! have pity
+on us!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She clasped her hands to her head, rushed from the
+room, and flew down the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>But ten minutes before that Judith had given Coppinger
+his bowl of porridge. He had risen late that
+morning. He was better, he said, and he looked more
+himself than the preceding day. He was now seated at
+the table in the hall, and had poured the fresh milk into
+the bowl, had dipped the spoon, put some of the porridge
+to his mouth, tasted, and was looking curiously into the
+spoon, when the door was flung open, Judith entered,
+and without a word of explanation, caught the bowl from
+him and dashed it on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger looked at her with his boring, dark eyes intently,
+and said: &ldquo;What is the meaning of this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is poisoned.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith was breathless. She drew back relieved at having
+cast away the fatal mess.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>348]</a></span>
+Coppinger rose to his feet, and glared at her across
+the table, leaning with his knuckles on the board. He
+did not speak for a moment, his face became livid, and
+his hands resting on the table shook as though he were
+shivering in an ague.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is arsenic in the porridge,&rdquo; gasped Judith.</p>
+
+<p>She had not time to weigh what she should say, how
+explain her conduct; but one thought had held her&mdash;to
+save Coppinger&rsquo;s life while there was yet time.</p>
+
+<p>The Captain&rsquo;s dog that had been lying at his master&rsquo;s
+feet rose, went to the spilt porridge, and began to lap
+the milk and devour the paste. Neither Judith nor Coppinger
+regarded him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was an accident,&rdquo; faltered Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You lie,&rdquo; said Coppinger, in thrilling tones, &ldquo;you
+lie, you murderess! You sought to kill me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith did not answer for a moment. She also was
+trembling. She had to resolve what course to pursue.
+She could not, she would not, betray her brother, and
+subject him to the worst brutality of treatment from the
+infuriated man whose life he had sought.</p>
+
+<p>It were better for her to take the blame on herself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I made the porridge&mdash;I and no one else.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You told me so, yesterday.&rdquo; He maintained his composure
+marvellously, but he was stunned by the sudden
+discovery of treachery in the woman he had loved and
+worshipped.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You maddened me by your treatment, but I did not
+desire that you should die. I repented and have saved
+your life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As Judith spoke she felt as though the flesh of her face
+stiffened, and the skin became as parchment. She could
+hardly open her mouth to speak and stir her tongue.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go!&rdquo; said Coppinger, pointing to the door. &ldquo;Go,
+you and your brother. Othello cottage is empty. Go,
+murderess, poisoner of your husband, there and wait till
+you hear from me. Under one roof, to eat off one board,
+is henceforth impossible. Go!&rdquo; he remained pointing,
+and a sulphurous fire flickered in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Then the hound began to howl, threw itself down, its
+limbs were contracted, it foamed at the mouth, and
+howled again.</p>
+
+<p>To the howlings of the poisoned and dying dog Judith
+and Jamie left Pentyre.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>349]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XLVII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">FAST IN HIS HANDS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Judith and Jamie were together in Othello Cottage&mdash;banished
+from Pentyre with a dark and threatening
+shadow over them, but this, however, gave the boy but
+little concern; he was delighted to be away from a house
+where he had been in incessant terror, and where he was
+under restraint; moreover, it was joy to him to be now
+where he need not meet Coppinger at every turn.</p>
+
+<p>Judith forbade his going to Polzeath to see Uncle
+Zachie and Oliver Menaida, as she thought it advisable,
+under the circumstances, to keep themselves to themselves,
+and above all not to give further occasion for the
+suspicions and jealousy of Coppinger. This was to her,
+under the present condition of affairs, specially distressing,
+as she needed some counsel as to what she should
+do. Uncle Zachie at his best was a poor adviser, but on
+no account now would she appeal to his son. She was
+embarrassed and alarmed. And she had excuse for embarrassment
+and alarm. She had taken upon herself the
+attempt that had been made on the life of Coppinger,
+and he would, she supposed, believe her to be guilty.</p>
+
+<p>What would he do? Would he proceed against her
+for attempted murder? If so, the case against her was
+very complete. It could be shown that Mr. Menaida had
+given her this arsenic, that she had kept it by her in
+her workbox while at the Glaze, that she had been on
+the most unsatisfactory terms with Captain Coppinger,
+and that she had refused to complete her marriage with
+him by appending her signature to the register. She
+was now aware&mdash;and the thought made her feel sick at
+heart and faint&mdash;that her association with the Menaidas
+had been most injudicious and had been capable of misinterpretation.
+It had been misinterpreted by Coppinger,
+and probably also by the gossips of Polzeath. It
+could be shown that a secret correspondence had been
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>350]</a></span>
+carried on between her and Oliver, which had been intercepted
+by her husband. This was followed immediately
+by the attempt to poison Coppinger. The arsenic
+had been given him in the porridge her own hands had
+mixed, and which had been touched by no one else. It
+was natural to conclude that she had deliberately purposed
+to destroy her husband, that she might be free to
+marry Oliver Menaida.</p>
+
+<p>If she were prosecuted on the criminal charge of
+attempted murder, the case could be made so conclusive
+against her that her conviction was certain.</p>
+
+<p>Her only chance of escape lay in two directions&mdash;one
+that she should tell the truth, and allow Jamie to suffer
+the consequences of what he had done, which would be
+prison or a lunatic asylum. The other was that she
+should continue to screen him and trust that Coppinger
+would not prosecute her. He might hesitate about proceeding
+with such a case, which would attract attention
+to himself, to his household, and lay bare to the public
+eye much that he would reasonably be supposed to wish
+to keep concealed. If, for instance, the case were
+brought into court the story of the enforced marriage
+must come out, and that would rake up once more the
+mystery of the wreckers on Doom Bar, and of Lady
+Knighton&rsquo;s jewels. Coppinger might and probably
+would grasp at the other alternative&mdash;take advantage of
+the incompletion of the marriage, repudiate her, and let
+the matter of the poisoned porridge remain untouched.</p>
+
+<p>The more Judith turned the matter over in her head
+the more sure she became that the best course, indeed
+the only one in which safety lay, was for her to continue
+to assume to herself the guilt of the attempt on Coppinger&rsquo;s
+life. He would see by her interference the second
+time, and prevention of his taking a second portion of the
+arsenic, that she did not really seek his life, but sought
+to force him, through personal fear, to drive her from
+his house and break the bond by which he bound her to
+him. For the sake of this going back from a purpose of
+murder, or from thinking that she had never intended
+to do more than drive him to a separation by alarm for
+his own safety; for the sake of the old love he had borne
+her, he might forbear pressing this matter to its bitter
+consequences, and accept what she desired&mdash;their separation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>351]</a></span>
+But if Judith allowed the truth to come out, then her
+husband would have no such compunction. It would be
+an opportunity for him to get rid of the boy he detested,
+and even if he did not have him consigned to
+jail, then it would be only because he would send him
+to an asylum.</p>
+
+<p>Judith went out on the cliffs. The sea was troubled,
+far as the horizon, strewn with white horses shaking
+their manes, pawing and prancing in their gallop landward.
+There was no blue, no greenness in the ocean
+now. The dull tinctures of winter were in it. The Atlantic
+wore its scowl, was leaden and impatient. The
+foam on the rocks was driven up in spouts into the air
+and carried over the downs, it caught in the thorn
+bushes like flocks of wool, and was no cleaner. It lay
+with the thin melting snow and melted with it into a
+dirty slush. It plastered the face of Othello Cottage as
+though, in brutal insolence, Ocean had been spitting at
+the house that was built of the wreck he had failed to
+gulp down, though he had chewed the life out of it.
+The foam rested in flakes on the rushes where it hung
+and fluttered like tufts of cotton-grass. It was dropped
+about by the wind for miles inland as though the wind
+were running in a paper chase. It was as though sky
+and sea were contending in a game of pelting the land,
+the one with snow, the other with foam, the one sweet,
+the other salt. Judith walked where, near the edge of
+the cliffs, there was no snow, and looked out at
+the angry ocean. All without was cold, rugged, ruffled,
+wretched; and within her heart burned a fire of apprehension,
+distress, almost of despair. All at once she came
+upon Mr. Desiderius Mules, walking in an opposite direction,
+engaged in wiping the foam-flakes out of his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Halloo! you here Mrs. Coppinger?&rdquo; exclaimed the
+rector; &ldquo;glad to see you. I&rsquo;m not here like S. Anthony
+preaching to the fishes, because I am a practical
+man. In the first place, in such a disturbed sea the fishes
+would have enough to do to look after themselves and
+would be ill-disposed to lend me an ear. In the next
+place the wind is on shore, and they would not hear me
+were I to lift up my voice. So I don&rsquo;t waste words and
+over-strain my larynx. If the bishop were a mile or a
+mile and a half inland, it might be different, he might
+admire my zeal. And what brings you here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>352]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Oh, Mr. Mules!&rdquo; exclaimed Judith, with a leap of
+hope in her heart&mdash;here was someone who might if he
+would be a help to her. She had indeed made up her
+own mind as to what was the safest road on which to set
+her feet, but she was timid, shrank from falsehood, and
+earnestly craved for someone to whom she could speak,
+and from whom she could obtain advice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Mr. Mules! will you give me some advice and
+assistance?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Advice, by all means,&rdquo; said the rector. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll turn
+and walk your way, the froth is blown into my face and
+stings it. My skin is sensitive, so are my eyes. Upon
+my word, when I get home my face will be as salt as if
+I had flooded it with tears&mdash;fancy me crying. What did
+you say you wanted&mdash;advice?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Advice and assistance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Advice you shall have, it is my profession to give it.
+I mix it with pepper and salt and serve it out in soup
+plates every week&mdash;am ready with it every day, Mrs. Coppinger.
+I have buckets of it at your disposal, bring
+your tureen and I&rsquo;ll tip in as much of the broth as you
+want, and may you like it. As to assistance, that is
+another matter. Pecuniary assistance I never give. I
+am unable to do so. My principles stand in the way. I
+have set up a high standard for myself and I stick to it.
+I never render pecuniary assistance to any one, as it demoralizes
+the receiver. I hope and trust it was not pecuniary
+assistance you wanted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Mr. Mules&mdash;not that, only guidance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, guidance! I&rsquo;m your sign-post, where do you
+want to go!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is this, sir. I have given poison to Mr. Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mercy on me!&rdquo; the rector jumped back and turned
+much the tinge of the foam plasters that were on his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is to say, I gave him arsenic mixed with his
+porridge the day before yesterday, and it made him very
+ill. Yesterday&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush, hush!&rdquo; said Mr. Mules, &ldquo;no more of this.
+This is ghastly. Let us say it is hallucination on your
+part. You are either not right in your head or are very
+wicked. If you please&mdash;don&rsquo;t come nearer to me. I
+can hear you quite well, hear a great deal more than
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>353]</a></span>
+pleases me. You ask my advice, and I give it: Sign
+the register, that will set me square, and put me in an
+unassailable position with the public, and also, secondarily,
+it will be to your advantage. You are now a
+nondescript, and a nondescript is objectionable. If you
+please&mdash;you will excuse me&mdash;I should prefer <em>not</em> standing
+between you and the cliff. There is no knowing
+what a person who confesses to poisoning her husband
+might do. If it be a case of lunacy&mdash;well, more reason
+that I should use precautions. My life is valuable.
+Come, there is only one thing you can do to make me
+comfortable&mdash;sign the register.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will not mention what I have told you to anyone?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Save and defend us! I speak of it!&mdash;I! Come,
+come, be rational. Sign the register and set my mind
+at ease, that is all I want and ask for, and then I wash
+my hands of you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then away went Mr. Desiderius Mules, with the wind
+catching his coat tails, twisting them, throwing them
+up against his back, parting them, and driving them
+one on each of him, taking and cutting them and
+sending them between his legs.</p>
+
+<p>Judith stood mournfully looking after him. The sign-post,
+as he had called himself was flying from the traveller
+whom it was his duty to direct.</p>
+
+<p>Then a hand was laid on her arm. She started, turned
+and saw Oliver Menaida, flushed with rapid walking
+and with the fresh air he had encountered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have come to see you,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have come to
+offer you my father&rsquo;s and my assistance. We have just
+heard&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That Captain Coppinger has turned you and Jamie
+out of his house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you heard any reason assigned?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because&mdash;so it is said&mdash;he had beaten the boy, and
+you were incensed, angry words passed&mdash;and it ended
+in a rupture.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That, then, is the common explanation?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Everyone is talking about it. Everyone says that.
+And now, what will you do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you. Jamie and I are at Othello Cottage,
+where we are comfortable. My aunt had furnished it
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>354]</a></span>
+intending to reside in it herself. As for our food, we receive
+that from the Glaze.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But this cannot continue.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It must continue for a while.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And then?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The future is not open to my eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith, that has taken place at length which I have
+been long expecting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This miserable condition of affairs has reached its
+climax, and there has been a turn.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith sighed. &ldquo;It has taken a turn, indeed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now that Captain Coppinger has been brought to
+his senses, and he sees that your resolve is not to be
+shaken, and he releases you, or you have released yourself
+from the thraldom you have been in. I do not
+suppose the popular account of the matter is true,
+wholly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not at all true.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That matters not. The fact remains that you are out
+of Pentyre Glaze and your own mistress. The snare is
+broken and you are delivered.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again Judith sighed, and she shook her head despondingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are free,&rdquo; persisted Oliver, &ldquo;just consider. You
+were hurried through a marriage when insensible, and
+when you came to consciousness you did what was the
+only thing you could do&mdash;you absolutely refused your
+signature that would validate what had taken place.
+That was conclusive. That ceremony was as worthless
+as this sea-foam that blows by. No court in the world
+would hold that you were bound by it. The consent,
+the free consent, of each party in such a convention is
+essential. As to your being at Pentyre, nothing against
+that can be alleged; Miss Trevisa was your aunt and
+constituted your guardian by your father. Your place
+was by her. To her you went when my father&rsquo;s house
+was no longer at your service through my return. At
+Pentyre you remained as long as Miss Trevisa was there.
+She went, and at once you left the house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You do not understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Excuse me, I think I do. But no matter as to details.
+When your aunt went, you went also&mdash;as was
+proper under the circumstances. We have heard, I do
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>355]</a></span>
+not know whether it be true, that your aunt has come in
+for a good property.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For a little something.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, shall you go to her and reside with her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; she will not have Jamie and me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So we supposed. Now my father has a proposal to
+make. The firm to which I belong has been good enough
+to take me into partnership, esteeming my services far
+higher than they deserve, and I am to live at Oporto,
+and act for them there. As my income will now be far
+larger than my humble requirements, I have resolved to
+allow my dear father sufficient for him to live upon comfortably
+where he wills, and he has elected to follow me,
+and take up his abode in Portugal. Now what he has
+commissioned me to say is&mdash;will you go with him?
+Will you continue to regard him as Uncle Zachie, and be
+to him as his dear little niece, and keep house for him
+in the sunny southern land?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith&rsquo;s eyes filled with tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Jamie is included in the invitation. He is to
+come also, and help my father to stuff the birds of Portugal.
+A new ornithological field is opening before him,
+he says and he must have help in it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot,&rdquo; said Judith, in a low tone, with her head
+sunk on her breast. &ldquo;I cannot leave here till Captain
+Coppinger gives me leave.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, surely, you are no longer bound to him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He holds me faster than before.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot understand this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; because you do not know all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me the whole truth. Let me help you. Let my
+father help you. You little know how we both have our
+hearts in your service.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I will tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But she hesitated and trembled. She fixed her eyes
+on the wild, foaming, leaden sea, and pressed her bosom
+with both hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I poisoned him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is true, I gave him arsenic, once; that your father
+had let me have for Jamie. If he had taken it the second
+time, when I offered it him in his bowl of porridge, he
+would be dead now. Do you see&mdash;he holds me in his
+hands and I cannot stir. I could not escape till I know
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>356]</a></span>
+what he intends to do with me. Now go&mdash;leave me to
+my fate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith&mdash;it is not true! Though I hear this from your
+lips I will not believe it. No; you need my father&rsquo;s,
+you need my help more than ever.&rdquo; He put her hand to
+his lips. &ldquo;It is white&mdash;innocent. I <em>know</em> it, in spite of
+your words.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>357]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XLVIII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">TWO ALTERNATIVES.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>When Judith returned to Othello Cottage, she was
+surprised to see a man promenading around it, flattening
+his nose at the window, so as to bring his eyes against
+the glass, then, finding that the breath from his nostrils
+dimmed the pane, wiping the glass and again flattening
+his nose. At first he held his hands on the window-ledge,
+but being incommoded by the refraction of the
+light, put his open hands against the pane, one on each
+side of his face. Having satisfied himself at one casement,
+he went to another, and made the same desperate
+efforts to see in at that.</p>
+
+<p>Judith coming up to the door, and putting the key in,
+disturbed him, he started, turned, and with a nose much
+like putty, but rapidly purpling with returned circulation,
+disclosed the features of Mr. Scantlebray, Senior.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ha!&rdquo; said that gentleman, in no way disconcerted;
+&ldquo;here I have you, after having been looking for
+my orphing charmer in every direction but the right one.
+With your favor I will come inside and have a chat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; said Judith, &ldquo;but I do not desire to
+admit visitors.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I am an exception. I&rsquo;m the man who should
+have looked after your interests, and would have done it
+a deal better than others. And so there has been a
+rumpus, eh? What about?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I really beg your pardon, Mr. Scantlebray, but I am
+engaged and cannot ask you to enter, nor delay conversing
+with you on the doorstep.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Jimminy! don&rsquo;t consider me. I&rsquo;ll stand on the
+doorstep and talk with you inside. Don&rsquo;t consider me;
+go on with what you have to do and let me amuse you.
+It must be dull and solitary here, but I will enliven you,
+though I have not my brother&rsquo;s gifts. Now, Obadiah is
+a man with a genius for entertaining people. He missed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>358]</a></span>
+his way when he started in life; he would have made a
+comic actor. Bless your simple heart, had that man
+appeared on the boards, he would have brought the
+house down&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have no doubt whatever he missed his way when
+he took to keeping an asylum,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We have all our gifts,&rdquo; said Scantlebray. &ldquo;Mine is
+architecture, and &rsquo;pon my honor as a gentleman, I do
+admire the structure of Othello Cottage, uncommon.
+You won&rsquo;t object to my pulling out my tape and taking
+the plan of the edifice, will you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The house belongs to Captain Coppinger; consult
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear orphing, not a bit. I&rsquo;m not on the best
+terms with that gent. There lies a tract of ruffled water
+between us. Not that I have given him cause for offence,
+but that he is not sweet upon me. He took off my hands
+the management of your affairs in the valuation business,
+and let me tell you&mdash;between me and you and that post
+yonder&rdquo;&mdash;he walked in and laid his hand on a beam&mdash;&ldquo;that
+he mismanaged it confoundedly. He is your husband,
+I am well aware, and I ought not to say this to you.
+He took the job into his hands because he had an eye
+to you, I knew that well enough. But he hadn&rsquo;t the
+gift&mdash;the faculty. Now I have made all that sort of
+thing my specialty. How many rooms have you in this
+house? What does that door lead to?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really, Mr. Scantlebray, you must excuse me; I am
+busy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, yes&mdash;vastly busy. Walking on the cliffs, eh!
+Alone, eh? Well, mum is the word. Come, make me
+your friend and tell me all about it. How came you
+here? There are all kind of stories afloat about the
+quarrel between you and your husband, and he is an
+Eolus, a Blustering Boreas, all the winds in one box.
+Not surprised. He blew up a gale against me once.
+Domestic felicity is a fable of the poets. Home is a
+region of cyclones, tornadoes, hurricanes&mdash;what you
+like; anything but a Pacific Ocean. Now, you won&rsquo;t
+mind my throwing an eye round this house, will you&mdash;a
+scientific eye? Architecture is my passion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Scantlebray, that is my bedroom; I forbid you
+touching the handle. Excuse me&mdash;but I must request
+you to leave me in peace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>359]</a></span>
+&ldquo;My dear creature,&rdquo; said Scantlebray, &ldquo;scientific
+thirst before all. It is unslakable save by the acquisition
+of what it desires. The structure of this house, as well
+as its object, has always been a puzzle to me. So your
+aunt was to have lived here&mdash;the divine, the fascinating
+Dionysia, as I remember her years ago. It wasn&rsquo;t built
+for the lovely Dionysia, was it? No. Then for what
+object was it built? And why so long untenanted?
+These are nuts for you to crack.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not trouble myself about these questions. I
+must pray you to depart.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In half the twinkle of an eye,&rdquo; said Scantlebray.
+Then he seated himself. &ldquo;Come, you haven&rsquo;t a superabundance
+of friends. Make me one and unburden your
+soul to me. What is it all about? Why are you here?
+What has caused this squabble? I have a brother a
+solicitor at Bodmin. Let me jot down the items, and
+we&rsquo;ll get a case out of it. Trust me as a friend, and I&rsquo;ll
+have you righted. I hear Miss Trevisa has come in for
+a fortune. Be a good girl, set your back against her
+and show fight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will thank you to leave the house,&rdquo; said Judith,
+haughtily. &ldquo;A moment ago you made reference to your
+honor as a gentleman. I must appeal to that same
+honor which you pride yourself on possessing, and, by
+virtue of that, request you to depart.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go, I&rsquo;ll go. But, my dear child, why are you in
+such a hurry to get rid of me? Are you expecting some
+one? It is an odd thing, but as I came along I was
+overtaken by Mr. Oliver Menaida, making his way to the
+downs&mdash;to look at the sea, which is rough, and inhale
+the breeze of the ocean, of course. At one time, I am
+informed, you made daily visits to Polzeath, daily visits
+while Captain Coppinger was on the sea. Since his
+return, I am informed, these visits have been discontinued.
+Is it possible that instead of your visiting Mr.
+Oliver, Mr. Oliver is now visiting you&mdash;here, in this cottage?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A sudden slash across the back and shoulders made
+Mr. Scantlebray jump and bound aside. Coppinger
+had entered, and was armed with a stout walking-stick.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What brings you here?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I came to pay my respects to the grass-widow,&rdquo;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>360]</a></span>
+sneered Scantlebray, as he sidled to the door and bolted,
+but not till, with a face full of malignity, he had shaken
+his fist at Coppinger, behind his back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What brings this man here?&rdquo; asked the Captain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Impertinence&mdash;nothing else,&rdquo; answered Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was that he said about Oliver Menaida?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;His insolence will not bear reporting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are right. He is a cur, and deserves to be
+kicked, not spoken to or spoken of. I heed him not.
+There is in him a grudge against me. He thought at one
+time that I would have taken his daughter&mdash;do you recall
+speaking to me once about the girl that you supposed
+was a fit mate for me! I laughed&mdash;I thought you
+had heard the chatter about Polly Scantlebray and me.
+A bold, fine girl, full of blood as a cherry is full of juice&mdash;one
+of the stock&mdash;but with better looks than the men,
+yet with the assurance, the effrontery of her father. A
+girl to laugh and talk with, not to take to one&rsquo;s heart. I
+care for Polly Scantlebray! Not I! That man has
+never forgiven me the disappointment because I did not
+take her. I never intended to. I despised her. Now
+you know all. Now you see why he hates me. I do not
+care. I am his match. But I will not have him insolent
+to you. What did he say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was a relief to Judith that Captain Coppinger had
+not heard the words that Mr. Scantlebray had used.
+They would have inflamed his jealousy, and fired him
+into fury against the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He told me that he had been passed, on his way
+hither, by Mr. Oliver Menaida, coming to the cliffs to inhale
+the sea air and look at the angry ocean.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Captain Coppinger was satisfied, or pretended to be
+so. He went to the door and shut it, but not till he had
+gone outside and looked round to see, so Judith
+thought, whether Oliver Menaida were coming that way,
+quite as much as to satisfy himself that Mr. Scantlebray
+was not lurking round a corner listening.</p>
+
+<p>No! Oliver Menaida would not come there. Of that
+Judith was quite sure. He had the delicacy of mind and
+the good sense not to risk her reputation by approaching
+Othello Cottage. When he had made that offer to
+her she had known that his own heart spoke, but he had
+veiled its speech and had made the offer as from his
+father, and in such a way as not to offend her. Only
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>361]</a></span>
+when she had accused herself of attempted murder did
+he break through his reserve to show her his rooted
+confidence in her innocence, in spite of her confession.</p>
+
+<p>When the door was fast, Coppinger came over to Judith,
+and, standing at a little distance from her, said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith, look at me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She raised her eyes to him. He was pale and his face
+lined, but he had recovered greatly since that day
+when she had seen him suffering from the effects of the
+poison.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I know all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you know?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You did not poison me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mixed and prepared the bowl for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;but the poison had been put into the oatmeal
+before, not by you, not with your knowledge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was silent. She was no adept at lying; she could
+not invent another falsehood to convince him of her
+guilt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know how it all came about,&rdquo; pursued Captain Coppinger.
+&ldquo;The cook, Jane, has told me. Jamie came
+into the kitchen with a blue paper in his hand, asked for
+the oatmeal, and put in the contents of the paper so
+openly as not in the least to arouse suspicion. Not till
+I was taken ill and made inquiries did the woman connect
+his act with what followed. I have found the blue
+paper, and on it it is written, in Mr. Menaida&rsquo;s handwriting,
+which I know, &lsquo;Arsenic. Poison: for Jamie,
+only to be used for the dressing of bird-skins, and a limited
+amount to be served to him at a time.&rsquo; Now I am
+satisfied, because I know your character, and because I
+saw innocence in your manner when you came down to
+me on the second occasion, and dashed the bowl from my
+lips&mdash;I saw then that you were innocent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith said nothing. Her eyes rested on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had angered that fool of a boy, I had beaten him.
+In a fit of sullen revenge, and without calculating either
+how best to do it, or what the consequences would be,
+he went to the place where he knew the arsenic was&mdash;Mr.
+Menaida had impressed on him the danger of playing
+with the poison&mdash;and he abstracted it. But he had
+not the wit or cunning generally present in idiots&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is no idiot,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, in fools,&rdquo; said Coppinger, &ldquo;to put the poison into
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>362]</a></span>
+the oatmeal secretly when no one was in the kitchen.
+He asked the cook for the meal and mingled the contents
+of the paper into it so openly as to disarm suspicion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He paused for Judith to speak, but she did not.</p>
+
+<p>He went on: &ldquo;Then you, in utter guilelessness, prepared
+my breakfast for me, as instructed by Miss
+Trevisa. Next morning you did the same, but were
+either suspicious of evil through missing the paper
+from your cabinet, or drawer, or wherever you kept it,
+or else Jamie confessed to you what he had done.
+Thereupon you rushed to me to save me from taking
+another portion. I do not know that I would have
+taken it; I had formed a half-suspicion from the burning
+sensation in my throat, and from what I saw in the
+spoon&mdash;but there was no doubt in my mind after the first
+discovery that you were guiltless. I sought the whole
+matter out, as far as I was able. Jamie is guilty&mdash;not
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And,&rdquo; said Judith, drawing a long breath, &ldquo;what
+about Jamie?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are two alternatives,&rdquo; said Coppinger; &ldquo;the
+boy is dangerous. Never again shall he come under my
+roof.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; spoke Judith, &ldquo;no, he must not go to the Glaze
+again. Let him remain here with me. I will take care
+of him that he does mischief to no one. He would never
+have hurt you had not you hurt him. Forgive him, because
+he was aggravated to it by the unjust and cruel
+treatment he received.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The boy is a mischievous idiot,&rdquo; said Coppinger;
+&ldquo;he must not be allowed to be at large.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, then, are your alternatives?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the first place, I propose to send him back to
+that establishment whence he should never have been
+released, to Scantlebray&rsquo;s Asylum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;no&mdash;no!&rdquo; gasped Judith. &ldquo;You do not know
+what that place is. I do. I got into it. I saw how
+Jamie had been treated.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He cannot be treated too severely. He is dangerous.
+You refuse this alternative?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, indeed, I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well. Then I put the matter in the hands of
+justice, and he is proceeded against and convicted as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>363]</a></span>
+having attempted my life with poison. To jail he will
+go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was as Judith had feared. There were but two
+destinations for Jamie, her dear, dear brother, the son
+of that blameless father&mdash;jail or an asylum.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no! no&mdash;no! not that!&rdquo; cried Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One or the other. I give you six hours to choose,&rdquo;
+said Coppinger. Then he went to the door, opened it,
+and stood looking seaward. Suddenly he started, &ldquo;Ha!
+the Black Prince.&rdquo; He turned in the door and said to
+Judith: &ldquo;One hour after sunset come to Pentyre Glaze.
+Come alone, and tell me your decision. I will wait for
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>364]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XLIX.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">NOTHING LIKE GROG.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>The Black Prince had been observed by Oliver Menaida.
+He did not know for certain that the vessel he
+saw in the offing was the smuggler&rsquo;s ship, but he suspected
+it, as he knew that Coppinger was in daily expectation
+of her arrival. He brought his father to the
+cliffs, and the old man at once identified her.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver considered what was to be done.</p>
+
+<p>A feint was to be made at a point lower down the
+coast so as to attract the coast-guard in that direction;
+whereas, she was to run for Pentyre as soon as night
+fell, with all lights hidden, and to discharge her cargo
+in the little cove.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver knew pretty well who was confederate with
+Coppinger, or were in his employ. His father was able to
+furnish him with a good deal of information, not perhaps
+very well authenticated, all resting on gossip. He
+resolved to have a look at these men, and observe whether
+they were making preparations to assist Coppinger in
+clearing the Black Prince the moment she arrived off
+the cove. But he found that he had not far to look.
+They were drawn to the cliffs one after another to observe
+the distant vessel.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver now made his way to the coast-guard station,
+and to reach it went round by Wadebridge, and this he
+did because he wished to avoid being noticed going to
+the Preventive Station across the estuary at the Doom
+Bar above St. Enodoc. On reaching his destination he
+was shown into an ante-room, where he had to wait some
+minutes, because the captain happened to be engaged.
+He had plenty to occupy his mind. There was that
+mysterious confession of Judith that she had tried to
+poison the man who persisted in considering himself as
+her husband, in spite of her resistance, and who was
+holding her in a condition of bondage in his house.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>365]</a></span>
+Oliver did not for a moment believe that she had intentionally
+sought his life. He had seen enough of her to
+gauge her character, and he knew that she was incapable
+of committing a crime. That she might have given
+poison in ignorance and by accident was possible; how
+this had happened it was in vain for him to attempt to
+conjecture; he could, however, quite believe that an innocent
+and sensitive conscience like that of Judith might
+feel the pangs of self-reproach when hurt had come to
+Coppinger through her negligence.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver could also believe that the smuggler captain
+attributed her act to an evil motive. He was not the
+man to believe in guilelessness, and when he found that he
+had been partly poisoned by the woman whom he daily
+tortured almost to madness, he would at once conclude
+that a premeditated attempt had been made on his life.
+What course would he pursue? Would he make this
+wretched business public and bring a criminal action
+against the unfortunate and unhappy girl who was
+linked to him against her will?</p>
+
+<p>Oliver saw that if he could obtain Coppinger&rsquo;s arrest
+on some such a charge as smuggling, he might
+prevent this scandal, and save Judith from much humiliation
+and misery. He was therefore most desirous to
+effect the capture of Coppinger at once and <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">flagrante
+delicto</i>.</p>
+
+<p>As he waited in the ante-room a harsh voice within
+was audible which he recognized as that of Mr. Scantlebray.
+Presently the door was half opened, and he heard
+the coast-guard captain say:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I trust you rewarded the fellow for his information.
+You may apply to me&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O royally, royally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And for furnishing you with the code of signals?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Imperially&mdash;imperially.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is well&mdash;never underpay in these matters.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not fear! I emptied my pockets. And as to the
+information you have received through me&mdash;rely on it as
+you would on the Bank of England.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have been deceived and befooled,&rdquo; said Oliver,
+unable to resist the chance of delivering a slap at a
+man for whom he entertained a peculiar aversion, having
+heard much concerning him from his father.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>366]</a></span>
+&ldquo;That the shilling you gave the clerk for his information,
+and the half-crown for his signal table were
+worth what you got&mdash;the information was false, and was
+intended to mislead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Scantlebray colored purple. &ldquo;What do you know?
+You know nothing. You are in league with them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take care what you say,&rdquo; said Oliver.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I maintain,&rdquo; said Scantlebray, somewhat cowed by
+his demeanor, &ldquo;that what I have said to the captain
+here is something of which you know nothing&mdash;and
+which is of importance to him to know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I maintain that you have been hoodwinked,&rdquo;
+answered Oliver. &ldquo;But it matters not. The event will
+prove which of us is on the right track.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; laughed Scantlebray, &ldquo;so be it; and let me
+bet you, Captain, and you Mr. Oliver Menaida&mdash;that I
+am on the scent of something else. I believe I know
+where Coppinger keeps his stores, and&mdash;but you shall
+see, and Captain Cruel also, ha, ha!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rubbing his hands he went out.</p>
+
+<p>Then Oliver begged a word with the Preventive captain,
+and told him what he had overheard, and also that
+he knew where was the cave in which the smugglers had
+their boat and to which they ran the cargo first, before
+removing it to their inland stores.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not so certain the Black Prince dare venture
+nigh the coast to-night,&rdquo; said the Captain, &ldquo;because of
+the sea and the on-shore wind. But the glass is rising
+and the wind may change. Then she&rsquo;ll risk it for certain.
+Now, look you here. I can&rsquo;t go with you myself
+to-night, because I must be here; and I can only let you
+have six men.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That will suffice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Under Wyvill. I cannot, of course, put them under
+you, but Wyvill shall command. He bears a grudge
+against Coppinger, and will be rejoiced to have the
+chance of paying it out. But, mind you, it is possible
+that the Black Prince dare not run in, because of the
+weather, at Pentyre Cove, she may run somewhere else,
+either down the coast or higher up. Coppinger has other
+ovens than one. You know the term. His store-places
+are ovens. We can&rsquo;t find them, but we know that there
+are several of them along the coast, just as there are a
+score of landing-places. When one is watched, then
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>367]</a></span>
+another is used, and that is how we are thrown out. There
+are plenty of folk interested in defrauding the revenue
+in every parish between Hartland and Land&rsquo;s End, and
+let the Black Prince, or any other smuggling vessel appear
+where she will, there she has ready helpers to shore
+her cargo, and convey it to the ovens. When we appear
+it is signalled at once to the vessel, and she runs away
+up or down the coast, and discharges somewhere else,
+before we can reach the point. Now, I do not say that
+what you tell me is not true, and that it is not Coppinger&rsquo;s
+intent to land the goods in the Pentyre Cove,
+but if we are smelt, or if the wind or sea forbid a landing
+there, away goes the Black Prince and runs her cargo
+somewhere else. That is why I cannot accompany you,
+nor can I send you with more than half a dozen men. I
+must be on the look out, and I must be prepared in the
+event of her coming suddenly back and attempting to
+land her goods at Porth-leze, or Constantine, or Harlyn.
+What you shall do is&mdash;remain here with me till
+near dusk, and then you shall have a boat and my men
+and get round Pentyre, and you shall take possession of
+that cave. You shall take with you provisions for twenty-four
+hours. If the Black Prince intends to make that
+bay and discharge there, then she will wait her opportunity.
+If she cannot to-night, she will to-morrow
+night. Now, seize every man who comes into that cave,
+and don&rsquo;t let him out. You see?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well. Wyvill shall be in command, and you
+shall be the guide, and I will speak to him to pay proper
+attention to what you recommend. You see?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Exactly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well&mdash;now we shall have something to eat and
+to drink, which is better, and drink that is worth the
+drinking, which is best of all. Here is some cognac,
+it was run goods that we captured and confiscated. Look
+at it. I wish there were artificial light and you would
+see, it is liquid amber&mdash;a liqueur. When you&rsquo;ve tasted
+that, ah-ha! you will say, &lsquo;Glad I lived to this moment.&rsquo;
+There is all the difference, my boy, between your best
+cognac and common brandy&mdash;the one, the condensed
+sunshine in the queen of fruit sublimed to an essence;
+the other, coarse, raw fire&mdash;all the difference that there
+is between a princess of blood royal and a gypsy
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>368]</a></span>
+wench. Drink and do not fear. This is not the stuff to
+smoke the head and clog the stomach.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Oliver Menaida finally started, he left the first
+officer of the coast-guard, in spite of his assurances, somewhat
+smoky in brain, and not in the condition to form
+the clearest estimate of what should be done in a contingency.
+The boat was laden with provisions for twenty-four
+hours, and placed under the command of Wyvill.</p>
+
+<p>The crew had not rowed far before one of them sang
+out:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gearge!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aye, aye, mate!&rdquo; responded Wyvill.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say, Gearge. Be us a going round Pentyre?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I reckon we be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And wet to the marrowbone we shall be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I reckon we shall.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then a pause in the conversation. Presently from
+another, &ldquo;Gearge!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aye, aye, Will!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say Gearge! where be the spirits to? There&rsquo;s a keg
+o&rsquo; water, but sure alive the spirits be forgotten.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless my body!&rdquo; exclaimed Wyvill, &ldquo;I reckon you&rsquo;re
+right. Here&rsquo;s a go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It will never do for us to be twenty-four hours wi&rsquo;
+salt water outside of us and fresh wi&rsquo;in,&rdquo; said Will.
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s a hat wi&rsquo;out a head in it, or boots wi&rsquo;out feet in
+&rsquo;em, or a man wi&rsquo;out spirits in his in&rsquo;ard parts?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear, alive! &rsquo;Tis a nuisance,&rdquo; said Wyvill. &ldquo;Who&rsquo;s
+been the idiot to forget the spirits?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gearge!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aye, aye, Samson!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say, Gearge! hadn&rsquo;t us better run over to the Rock
+and get a little anker there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I reckon it wouldn&rsquo;t be amiss, mate,&rdquo; responded
+Wyvill. To Oliver&rsquo;s astonishment and annoyance, the
+boat was turned to run across to a little tavern, at what
+was called &ldquo;The Rock.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He remonstrated. This was injudicious and unnecessary.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Onnecessary,&rdquo; said Wyvill. &ldquo;Why, you don&rsquo;t suppose
+fire-arms will go off wi&rsquo;out a charge? It&rsquo;s the same
+wi&rsquo; men. What&rsquo;s the good of a human being unless he
+be loaded&mdash;and what&rsquo;s his proper load but a drop o&rsquo;
+spirits.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>369]</a></span>
+Then one of the rowers sang out:</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem19">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Water-drinkers are dull asses<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When they&rsquo;re met together.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Milk is meat for infancy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ladies like to sip Bohea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not such stuff for you and me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When we&rsquo;re met together.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Oliver was not surprised that so few captures were effected
+on the coast, when those set to watch it loved so
+dearly the very goods they were to watch against being
+imported untaxed.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the shore, the man Samson and another
+were left in charge of the boat, while Wyvill, Will, and
+the rest went up to the Rock Inn to have a glass for the
+good of the house, and to lade themselves with an anker
+of brandy which, during their wait in the cave, was to
+be distributed among them. Oliver thought it well to
+go to the tavern as well. He was impatient and thought
+they would dawdle there, and, perhaps, take more than
+the nip to which they professed themselves content to
+limit themselves. Pentyre Point had to be rounded in
+rough water, and they must be primed to enable them to
+round Pentyre.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said Wyvill, who seemed to suppose that
+some sort of an explanation of his conduct was due.
+&ldquo;When ropes be dry they be terrible slack. Wet &rsquo;em
+and they are taut. It is the same wi&rsquo; men&rsquo;s muscles.
+We&rsquo;ve Pentyre Point to get round. Very strainin&rsquo; to the
+arms, and I reckon it couldn&rsquo;t be done unless we wetted
+the muscles. That&rsquo;s reason. That&rsquo;s convincin&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At the Rock Tavern the Preventive men found the
+clerk of S. Enodoc, with his hands in his pockets, on
+the settle, his legs stretched out before him, considering
+one of his knees that was threadbare, and trying to make
+up his mind whether the trouser would hold out another
+day without a thread being run through the thin portion,
+and whether if a day, then perhaps two days, and
+if perchance for two days, then for three. But if for
+three, then why not for four! And if for four, then possibly
+for five&mdash;anyhow, as far as he could judge, there
+was no immediate call for him to have the right knee of
+his trouser repaired that day.</p>
+
+<p>The sexton-clerk looked up when the party entered,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>370]</a></span>
+and greeted them each man by name, and a conversation
+ensued relative to the weather. Each described his own
+impressions as to what the weather had been, and his anticipations
+as to what it would be.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And how&rsquo;s your missus?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Middlin&rsquo;&mdash;and yours?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Same, thanky&rsquo;. A little troubled wi&rsquo; the rheumatics.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell her to take a lump o&rsquo; sugar wi&rsquo; five drops o&rsquo;
+turpentine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will, thanky&rdquo;&mdash;and so on for half an hour, at
+the end of which time the party thought it time to rise,
+wipe their mouths, shoulder the anker, and return to
+the boat.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner were they in it, and had thrust off from
+shore, and prepared to make a second start, than Oliver
+touched Wyvill and said, pointing to the land, &ldquo;Look
+yonder.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is that clerk. Running, actually running.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I reckon he be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And in the direction of Pentyre.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So he be, I reckon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what do you think of that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; answered Wyvill, confusedly. &ldquo;Why
+should I? He can&rsquo;t say nothing about where we be going.
+Not a word of that was said while us was there.
+I don&rsquo;t put no store on his running.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do,&rdquo; said Oliver, unable to smother his annoyance.
+&ldquo;This folly will spoil our game.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wyvill muttered, &ldquo;I reckon I&rsquo;m head of the consarn
+and not you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver deemed it advisable, as the words were said
+low, to pretend that he did not hear them.</p>
+
+<p>The wind had somewhat abated, but the sea was running
+furiously round Pentyre. Happily the tide was going
+out, so that tide and wind were conflicting, and this
+enabled the rowers to get round Pentyre between the
+Point and the Newland Isle, that broke the force of the
+seas. But when past the shelter of Newland, doubling
+a spur of Pentyre that ran to the north, the rowers had
+to use their utmost endeavors, and had not their muscles
+been moistened they might possibly have declared
+it impossible to proceed. It was advisable to run into
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>371]</a></span>
+the cove just after dark, and before the turn of the tide,
+as, in the event of the Black Prince attempting to land
+her cargo there, it would be made with the flow of the
+tide, and in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>The cove was reached and found to be deserted. Oliver
+showed the way, and the boat was driven up on the
+shingle and conveyed into the smugglers&rsquo; cave behind
+the rock curtain. No one was there. Evidently, from
+the preparations made, the smugglers were ready for the
+run of the cargo that night.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Will, one of the Preventive men, &ldquo;us hev&rsquo;
+a&rsquo; labored uncommon. What say you, mates? Does us
+desarve a drop of refreshment or does us not? Every
+man as does his dooty by his country and his king
+should be paid for &rsquo;t, is my doctrine. What do y&rsquo; say,
+Gearge? Sarve out the grog?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I reckon yes. Sarve out the grog. There&rsquo;s nothing
+like grog&mdash;I think it was Solomon said that, and he was
+the wisest of men.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For sure; he made a song about it,&rdquo; said one of the
+coast-guard. &ldquo;It begins:</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem25">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;&lsquo;A plague of those musty old lubbers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who tell us to fast and to think.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And patient fall in with life&rsquo;s rubbers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With nothing but water to drink.&rsquo;&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To be sure,&rdquo; responded Wyvill, &ldquo;never was a truer
+word said than when Solomon was called the wisest o&rsquo;
+men.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>372]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER L.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">PLAYING FORFEITS.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here am I once more,&rdquo; said Mr. Scantlebray, walking
+into Othello Cottage with a rap at the door but without
+waiting for an invitation to enter. &ldquo;Come back like the
+golden summer, but at a quicker rate. How are you
+all? I left you rather curtly&mdash;without having had time
+to pay my proper <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cong&eacute;</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith and Jamie were sitting over the fire. No candle
+had been lighted, for, though a good many things
+had been brought over to Othello Cottage for their use,
+candles had been forgotten, and Judith did not desire to
+ask for more than was furnished her, certainly not to go
+to the Glaze for the things needed. They had a fire,
+but not one that blazed. It was of drift-wood, that
+smouldered and would not flame, and as it burned emitted
+a peculiar odor.</p>
+
+<p>Jamie was in good spirits, he chattered and laughed,
+and Judith made pretence that she listened, but her
+mind was absent, she had cares that had demands on
+every faculty of her mind. Moreover, now and then her
+thoughts drifted off to a picture that busy fancy painted
+and dangled before them&mdash;of Portugal, with its woods of
+oranges, golden among the burnished leaves, and its
+vines hung with purple grapes&mdash;with its glowing sun,
+its blue glittering sea&mdash;and, above all, she mused on the
+rest from fears, the cessation from troubles which would
+have ensued, had there been a chance for her to accept
+the offer made, and to have left the Cornish coast for
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>Looking into the glowing ashes, listening to her
+thoughts as they spoke, and seeming to attend to the
+prattle of the boy, Judith was surprised by the entry of
+Mr. Scantlebray.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&mdash;disengaged, that is capital,&rdquo; said the agent.
+&ldquo;The very thing I hoped. And now we can have a talk.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>373]</a></span>
+You have never understood that I was your sincere
+friend. You have turned from me and looked elsewhere,
+and now you suffer for it. But I am like all the best
+metal&mdash;strong and bright to the last; and see&mdash;I have
+come to you now to forewarn you, because I thought that
+if it came on you all at once there would be trouble and
+bother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Mr. Scantlebray. It is true that we are
+not busy just now, but it does not follow that we are
+disposed for a talk. It is growing dark, and we shall
+lock up the cottage and go to bed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I will not detain you long. Besides I&rsquo;ll take the
+wish out of your heart for bed in one jiffy. Look here&mdash;read
+this. Do you know the handwriting?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He held out a letter. Judith reluctantly took it. She
+had risen; she had not asked Scantlebray to take a seat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that is the writing of Captain Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A good bold hand,&rdquo; said the agent, &ldquo;and see here is
+his seal with his motto, <em>Thorough</em>. You know that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;it is his seal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now read it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith knelt at the hearth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Blow, blow the fire up, my beauty,&rdquo; called Scantlebray
+to Jamie. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you see that your sister wants
+light, and is running the risk of blinding her sweet
+pretty eyes.&rdquo; Jamie puffed vigorously and sent out
+sparks snapping and blinking, and brought the wood to
+a white glow, by which Judith was able to decipher the
+letter.</p>
+
+<p>It was a formal order from Cruel Coppinger to Mr.
+Obadiah Scantlebray to remove James Trevisa that evening,
+after dark, from Othello Cottage to his idiot asylum,
+to remain there in custody till further notice. Judith
+remained kneeling, with her eyes on the letter, after she
+had read it. She was considering. It was clear to her
+that directly after leaving her Captain Coppinger had
+formed his own resolve, either impatient of waiting the
+six hours he had allowed her, or because he thought the
+alternative of the Asylum the only one that could be accepted
+by her, and it was one that would content himself,
+as the only one that avoided exposure of a scandal.
+But there were other asylums than that of Scantlebray,
+and others were presumably better managed, and those
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>374]</a></span>
+in charge less severe in their dealings. She had considered
+this, as she looked into the fire. But a new idea
+had also at the same time lightened in her mind, and she
+had a third alternative to propose.</p>
+
+<p>She had been waiting for the moment when to go to
+the Glaze and see Coppinger, and just at the moment
+when she was about to send Jamie to bed and leave the
+house Scantlebray came in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now then,&rdquo; said the agent, &ldquo;what do you think of
+me&mdash;that I am a real friend?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thank you for having told me this,&rdquo; answered Judith,
+&ldquo;and now I will go to Pentyre. I beg that you will not
+allow my brother to be conveyed away during my absence.
+Wait till I return. Perhaps Captain Coppinger
+may not insist on the removal at once. If you are a real
+friend, as you profess, you will do this for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will do it willingly. That I am a real friend I have
+shown you by my conduct. I have come beforehand to
+break news to you which might have been too great and
+too overwhelming had it come on you suddenly. My
+brother and a man or two will be here in an hour. Go by
+all means to Captain Cruel, but,&rdquo; Scantlebray winked
+an eye, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t myself think you will prevail with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will thank you to remain here for half an hour
+with Jamie,&rdquo; said Judith, coldly. &ldquo;And to stay all proceedings
+till my return. If I succeed&mdash;well. If not,
+then only a few minutes have been lost. I have that to
+say to Captain Coppinger which may, and I trust will,
+lead him to withdraw that order.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rely on me. I am a rock on which you may build,&rdquo;
+said Scantlebray. &ldquo;I will do my best to entertain your
+brother, though, alas! I have not the abilities of Obadiah,
+who is a genius, and can keep folks hour by hour
+going from one roar of laughter into another.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>No sooner was Judith gone than Scantlebray put his
+tongue into one side of his cheek, clicked, pointed over
+his shoulder with his thumb, and seated himself opposite
+Jamie on the stool beside the fire which had been
+vacated by Judith. Jamie had understood nothing of
+the conversation that had taken place, his name had not
+been mentioned, and consequently his attention had not
+been drawn to it away from some chestnuts he had found,
+or which had been given to him, that he was baking in
+the ashes on the hearth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>375]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Fond of hunting, eh?&rdquo; asked Scantlebray, stretching
+his legs and rubbing his hands. &ldquo;You are like me&mdash;like
+to be in at the death. What do you suppose I have in
+my pocket? Why, a fox with a fiery tail. Shall we run
+him to earth? Shall we make an end of him? Tally-ho!
+Tally-ho! here he is. Oh, sly Reynard, I have you
+by the ears.&rdquo; And forth from the tail-pocket of his
+coat Scantlebray produced a bottle of brandy. &ldquo;What
+say you, corporal, shall we drink his blood? Bring me
+a couple of glasses and I&rsquo;ll pour out his gore.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t any,&rdquo; said Jamie. &ldquo;Ju and I have two
+mugs, that is all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And they will do famously. Here goes&mdash;off with the
+mask!&rdquo; and with a blow he knocked away the head and
+cork of the bottle. &ldquo;No more running away for you,
+my beauty, except down our throats. Mugs! That is
+famous. Come, shall we play at army and navy, and the
+forfeit be a drink of Reynard&rsquo;s blood?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jamie pricked up his ears; he was always ready for a
+game of play.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here,&rdquo; said Scantlebray. &ldquo;You are in the military,
+I am in the nautical line. Each must address the
+other by some title in accordance with the profession
+each professes, and the forfeit of failure is a pull at the
+bottle. What do you say! I will begin. Set the bottle
+there between us. Now then, Sergeant, they tell me
+your aunt has come in for a fortune. How much? What
+is the figure, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; responded Jamie, and was at once
+caught up with &ldquo;Forfeit! forfeit!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, by Jimminy, there am I, too, in the same box.
+Take your swig, Commander, and pass to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what am I to call you?&rdquo; asked the puzzle-headed
+boy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mate, or captain, or boatswain, or admiral.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t remember all that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mate will do. Always say mate, whatever you ask
+or answer. Do you understand, General!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Forfeit! forfeit! You should have said &lsquo;Yes,
+mate.&rsquo;&rdquo; Mr. Scantlebray put his hands to his sides
+and laughed. &ldquo;Oh, Jimminy! there am I again. The
+instructor as bad as the pupil. I&rsquo;m a bad fellow as instructor,
+that I am, Field-Marshal. So&mdash;your Aunt
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>376]</a></span>
+Dionysia has come in for some thousands of pounds&mdash;how
+many do you think! Have you heard?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think I&rsquo;ve heard&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mate! Mate!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think I&rsquo;ve heard, Mate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, how many do you remember to have heard
+named? Was it five thousand? That is what I heard
+named&mdash;eh, Captain?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, more than that,&rdquo; said Jamie, in his small mind
+catching at a chance of talking-big, &ldquo;a great lot more
+than that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, ten thousand?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I dare say; yes, I think so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Forfeit! forfeit! pull again, Centurion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Mate, I&rsquo;m sure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ten thousand&mdash;why, at five per cent. that&rsquo;s a nice
+little sum for you and Ju to look forward to when the
+old hull springs a leak and goes to the bottom.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Jamie, vaguely. He could not look
+beyond the day, moreover he did not understand the figurative
+speech of his comrade.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Forfeit again, General! But I&rsquo;ll forgive you this
+time, or you&rsquo;ll get so drunk you&rsquo;ll not be able to answer
+me a question. Bless my legs and arms! on that pretty
+little sum one could afford one&rsquo;s self a new tie every
+Sunday. You will prove a beau and buck indeed some
+day, Captain of Thousands! And then you won&rsquo;t live in
+this little hole. By the way, I hear old Dunes Trevisa,
+I beg pardon, Field-Marshal Sir James, I mean your
+much respected aunt, Miss Trevisa, has got a charming
+box down by S. Austell. You&rsquo;ll ask me down for the
+shooting, won&rsquo;t you, Commander-in-Chief?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I will,&rdquo; answered Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ll give me the best bedroom, and will have
+choice dinners, and the best old tawny port, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, to be sure,&rdquo; said the boy, flattered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mate! mate! forfeit! and I suppose you&rsquo;ll keep a
+hunter?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall have two&mdash;three,&rdquo; said Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And if I were you, I&rsquo;d keep a pack of fox-hounds.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s for the winter, and other hounds for the summer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sure I will, and wear a red coat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>377]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Famous! but&mdash;there I spare you this time&mdash;you forfeited
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I won&rsquo;t be spared,&rdquo; protested the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As for a wretched little hole like this Othello Cottage&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+said Scantlebray. &ldquo;But, by the bye, you have
+never shown me over the house. How many rooms are
+there in it, Generalissimo of His Majesty&rsquo;s Forces!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s my bedroom there,&rdquo; said Jamie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; and that door leads to your sister&rsquo;s?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. And there&rsquo;s the kitchen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And up-stairs!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no up-stairs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, you are very clever&mdash;clever. By Ginger, you
+must be to be Commander-in-chief; but &rsquo;pon my word,
+I can&rsquo;t believe that. No up-stairs. There must be up-stairs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, there&rsquo;s not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But by Jimminy! with such a roof as this house has
+got, and a little round window in the gable. There must
+be an up-stairs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No there&rsquo;s not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you make that out?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because there are no stairs at all.&rdquo; Then Jamie
+jumped up, but rolled on one side, the brandy he had
+drunk had made him unsteady. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll show you mate&mdash;mate&mdash;yes,
+mate. There three times now will do for
+times I haven&rsquo;t said it. There&mdash;in my room. The floor
+is rolling; it won&rsquo;t stay steady. There are cramps in
+the wall, no stairs, and so you get up to where it all is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All what is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Forfeit, forfeit!&rdquo; shouted Jamie. &ldquo;Say general or
+something military. I don&rsquo;t know. Ju won&rsquo;t let me go
+up there; but there&rsquo;s tobacco, for one thing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s a candle, Corporal?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is none. We have no light but the fire.&rdquo;
+Then Jamie dropped back on his stool, unable to keep
+his legs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am more provident than you. I have a lantern outside,
+unlighted, as I thought I might need it on my return.
+The nights close in very fast and very dark now,
+eh, Commander?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray went outside the cottage, looked
+about him, specially directing his eyes toward the Glaze.
+Then he chuckled and said:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>378]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Sent Miss Judith on a wild goose chase, have I? Ah
+ha! Captain Coppinger, I&rsquo;ll have a little entertainment
+for you to-night. The preventives will snatch your goods
+at Porth-leze or Constantine, and here&mdash;behind your back&mdash;I&rsquo;ll
+attend to your store of tobacco and whatever else
+I may find.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he returned and going to the fire extracted the
+candle from the lantern and lighted it at a burning
+log.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Halloa, Captain of thousands! Going to sleep?
+There&rsquo;s the bottle. You must make up forfeits. You&rsquo;ve
+been dishonest I fear and not paid half. That door did
+you say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Jamie was past understanding a question, and
+Mr. Scantlebray could find out for himself now what he
+wanted to know. That this house had been used by
+Coppinger as a store for some of the smuggled cargoes
+he had long suspected, but he had never been able to
+obtain any evidence which would justify the coast-guard
+in applying to the justices for a search-warrant. Now
+he would be able to look about it at his leisure, while
+Judith was absent. He did not suppose Coppinger was
+at the Glaze. He assumed that an attempt would be
+made, as the clerk of St. Enodoc had informed him, to
+land the cargo of the Black Prince to the west of the
+estuary of the Camel, and he supposed that Coppinger
+would be there to superintend. He had used the letter
+sent to his brother to induce the girl to go to Pentyre,
+and so leave the cottage clear for him to search it.</p>
+
+<p>Now, holding the candle, he entered the bedroom of
+Jamie, and soon perceived the cramps the boy had
+spoken of that served in place of stairs. Above was a
+door into the attic, whitewashed over, like the walls.
+Mr. Scantlebray climbed, thrust open the door and crept
+into the garret.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ha!&rdquo; said the valuer. &ldquo;So, so, Captain! I have
+come on one of your lairs at last. And I reckon I will
+make it warm for you. But, by Ginger, it is a pity I
+can&rsquo;t remove some of what is here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He prowled about in the roomy loft, searching every
+corner. There were a few small kegs of spirit, but the
+stores were mostly of tobacco.</p>
+
+<p>In about ten minutes Mr. Scantlebray reappeared in
+the room where was Jamie. He was without his candle.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>379]</a></span>
+The poor boy, overcome by what he had drunk, had fallen
+on the floor and was in a tipsy sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Scantlebray went to him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come along with me,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Come, there is no
+time to be lost. Come, you fool!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He shook him, but Jamie would not be roused, he
+kicked and struck out with his fists.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You won&rsquo;t come? I&rsquo;ll make you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Scantlebray caught the boy by the shoulders to
+drag him to the door. The child began to struggle and
+resist.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! I&rsquo;m not concerned for you, fool,&rdquo; said Scantlebray.
+&ldquo;If you like to stay and take your chance&mdash;my
+brother will be here to carry you off presently. Will
+you come?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Scantlebray caught the boy by the feet and tried to
+drag him, but Jamie clung to the table-legs.</p>
+
+<p>Scantlebray uttered an oath&mdash;&ldquo;Stay, you fool, and be
+smothered! The world will get on very well without
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And he strode forth from the cottage.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>380]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER LI.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">SURRENDER.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Scantlebray was mistaken. Coppinger had not crossed
+the estuary of the Camel. He was at Pentyre Glaze
+awaiting the time when the tide suited for landing the
+cargo of the Black Prince. In the kitchen were a number
+of men having their supper and drinking, waiting
+also for the proper moment when to issue forth.</p>
+
+<p>At the turn of the tide the Black Prince would approach
+in the gathering darkness and would come as near in as
+she dare venture. The wind had fallen, but the sea was
+running, and with the tide setting in she would approach
+the cove.</p>
+
+<p>Judith hastened toward the Glaze. Darkness had set
+in, but in the north were auroral lights, first a great,
+white halo, then rays that shot up to the zenith, and
+then a mackerel sky of rosy light. The growl and mutter
+of the sea filled the air with threat like an angry
+multitude surging on with blood and destruction in their
+hearts.</p>
+
+<p>The flicker overhead gave Judith light for her cause;
+the snow had melted except in ditches and under hedges,
+and there it glared red or white in response to the changing,
+luminous tinges of the heavens. When she reached
+the house she at once entered the hall; there Coppinger
+was awaiting her. He knew she would come to him when
+her mind was made up on the alternatives he had offered
+her, and he believed he knew pretty surely which she
+would choose. It was because he expected her that he
+had not suffered the men collected for the work of the
+night to invade the hall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are here,&rdquo; he said. He was seated by the fire; he
+looked up, but did not rise. &ldquo;Almost too late.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Almost, maybe, but not altogether,&rdquo; answered Judith.
+&ldquo;And yet it seems unnecessary, as you have already
+acted without awaiting my decision.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>381]</a></span>
+&ldquo;What makes you say that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been shown your letter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Obadiah Scantlebray is premature.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is not at Othello Cottage yet. His brother came
+beforehand to prepare me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How considerate of your feelings,&rdquo; sneered Captain
+Cruel. &ldquo;I would not have expected that of Scantlebray.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have not awaited my decision,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is true,&rdquo; answered Coppinger, carelessly. &ldquo;I
+knew you would shrink from the exposure, the disgrace
+of publication of what has occurred here. I knew you so
+well that I could reckon beforehand on what you would
+elect.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, why to Scantlebray? Are there not other
+asylums?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes: so long as that boy is placed where he can do no
+mischief, I care not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, if that be so, I have another proposal to
+make.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; Coppinger stood up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you have any regard for my feelings, any care for
+my happiness, you will grant my request.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me hear it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Menaida is going to Portugal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo;&mdash;in a tone of concentrated rage&mdash;&ldquo;Oliver?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oliver and his father. But the proposal concerns the
+father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go on.&rdquo; Coppinger strode once across the room,
+then back again. &ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; he said, savagely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Old Mr. Menaida offers to take Jamie with him. He
+intends to settle at Oporto, near his son, who has been
+appointed to a good situation there. He will gladly undertake
+the charge of Jamie. Let Jamie go with them.
+There he can do no harm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, go&mdash;without you! Did they not want you to
+go, also?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith hesitated and flushed. There was a single tallow
+candle on the table. Coppinger took it up, snuffed
+it, and held the flame to her face to study its expression.
+&ldquo;I thought so,&rdquo; he said, and put down the light
+again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie is useful to Mr. Menaida,&rdquo; pleaded Judith, in
+some confusion, and with a voice of tremulous apology.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>382]</a></span>
+&ldquo;He stuffs birds so beautifully, and Uncle Zachie&mdash;I
+mean Mr. Menaida&mdash;has set his heart on making a collection
+of the Spanish and Portuguese birds.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes; he understands the properties of arsenic,&rdquo;
+said Coppinger, with a scoff.</p>
+
+<p>Judith&rsquo;s eyes fell. Captain Cruel&rsquo;s tone was not reassuring.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You say that you care not where Jamie be, so long as
+he is where he cannot hurt you,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not say that,&rdquo; answered Coppinger. &ldquo;I said
+that he must be placed where he can injure no one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He can injure no one if he is with Mr. Menaida, who
+will well watch him, and keep him employed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger laughed bitterly. &ldquo;And you? Will you be
+satisfied to have the idolized brother with the deep seas
+rolling between you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must endure it. It is the least of evils.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you would be pining to have wings and fly over
+the sea to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I have not wings I cannot go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now hearken,&rdquo; said Coppinger. He clinched his
+fist and laid it on the table. &ldquo;I know very well what
+this means. Oliver Menaida is at the bottom of this.
+It is not the fool Jamie who is wanted in Portugal, but
+the clever Judith. They have offered to take the boy,
+that through him they may attract you, unless,&rdquo; his voice
+thrilled, &ldquo;they have already dared to propose that you
+should go with them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith was silent.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger clinched his second hand and laid that
+also on the table. &ldquo;I swear to heaven,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;that
+if I and that Oliver Menaida meet again, it is for the
+last time for one or other of us. We have met twice
+already. It is an understood thing between us, when we
+meet again, one wets his boots in the other&rsquo;s blood. Do
+you hear? The world will not hold us two any longer.
+Portugal may be far off, but it is too near Cornwall for
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Judith made no answer. She looked fixedly into the
+gloomy eyes of Coppinger, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have strange thoughts. Suppose&mdash;if you will&mdash;that
+the invitation included me, I could not have accepted
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not! You refuse to regard yourself as married,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>383]</a></span>
+and if unmarried, you are free&mdash;and if free, ready to
+elope with&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he would not utter the name in his quivering
+fury.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I pray you,&rdquo; said Judith, offended, &ldquo;do not insult
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;insult you? It is a daily insult to me to be treated
+as I have been. It is driving me mad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, do you not see,&rdquo; urged Judith, &ldquo;you have offered
+me two alternatives and I ask for a third, yours
+are jail or an asylum, mine is exile. Both yours are to
+me intolerable. Conceive of my state were Jamie either
+in jail or with Mr. Scantlebray. In jail&mdash;and I should
+be thinking of him all day and all night in his prison
+garb, tramping the tread-mill, beaten, driven on, associated
+with the vilest of men, an indelible stain put, not
+on him only, but on the name of our dear, dear father.
+Do you think I could bear that? or take the other alternative?
+I know the Scantlebrays. I should have the
+thoughts of Jamie distressed, frightened, solitary, ill-treated,
+ever before me. I had it for a few hours once
+and it drove me frantic. It would make me mad in a
+week. I know that I could not endure it. Either alternative
+would madden or kill me. And I offer another&mdash;if
+he were in exile, I could at least think of him as
+happy among the orange groves, in the vineyards,
+among kind friends, happy, innocent&mdash;at worst, forgetting
+me. <em>That</em> I could bear. But the other&mdash;no, not for
+a week&mdash;they would be torture insufferable.&rdquo; She spoke
+full of feverish vehemence, with her hands outspread before
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And this smiling vision of Jamie happy in Portugal
+would draw your heart from me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You never had my heart,&rdquo; said Judith.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger clinched his teeth. &ldquo;I will hear no more
+of this,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>Then Judith threw herself on her knees, and caught
+him and held him, lifting her entreating face toward
+his.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have undergone it&mdash;for some hours. I know it will
+madden or kill me. I cannot&mdash;I cannot&mdash;I cannot,&rdquo; she
+could scarce breathe, she spoke in gasps.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You cannot what?&rdquo; he asked, sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot live on the terms you offer. You take from
+me even the very wish to live. Take away the arsenic
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>384]</a></span>
+from me&mdash;lest in madness I give it to myself. Take me
+far inland from these cliffs&mdash;lest in my madness I throw
+myself over&mdash;I could not bear it. Will nothing move
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo; He stood before her, his feet apart, his
+arms folded, his chin on his breast, looking into her uplifted,
+imploring face. &ldquo;Yes&mdash;one thing. One thing
+only.&rdquo; He paused, raking her face with his eyes. &ldquo;Yes&mdash;one
+thing. Be mine wholly&mdash;unconditionally. Then
+I will consent. Be mine; add your name where it is
+wanting. Resume your ring&mdash;and Jamie shall go with
+the Menaidas. Now, choose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He drew back. Judith remained kneeling, upright, on
+the floor with arms extended&mdash;she had heard and at
+first hardly comprehended him. Then she staggered to
+her feet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Coppinger, &ldquo;what answer do you make?&rdquo;
+Still she could not speak. She went to the table with
+uncertain steps. There was a wooden form by it. She
+seated herself on this, placed her arms on the board,
+joining her hands, and laid her head, face downward, between
+them on the table.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger remained where he was, watching and waiting.
+He knew what her action implied&mdash;that she was to
+be left alone with her thoughts, to form her resolve undisturbed.
+He remained, accordingly, motionless, but
+with his eyes fixed on the golden hair that flickered in
+the dim light of the one candle. The wick had a great
+fungus in it&mdash;so large and glaring that in another moment
+it must fall, and fall on Judith&rsquo;s hand. Coppinger
+saw this and he thrust forth his arm to snuff the candle
+with his fingers, but his hand shook, and the light was
+extinguished. It mattered not. There were glowing
+coals on the hearth, and through the window flared and
+throbbed the auroral lights.</p>
+
+<p>A step sounded outside. Then a hand was on the
+door. Coppinger at once strode across the hall, and
+arrested the intruder from entering.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hender Pendarvis&rdquo;&mdash;the clerk of St. Enodoc. &ldquo;I
+have some&rsquo;ut partickler I must say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger looked at Judith; she lay motionless, her
+head between her arms on the board. He partly opened
+the door and stepped forth into the porch.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>385]</a></span>
+When he had heard what the clerk of St. Enodoc had
+to say, he answered with an order, &ldquo;Round to the kitchen&mdash;bid
+the men arm and go by the beach.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He returned into the hall, went to the fireplace and
+took down a pair of pistols, tried them that they were
+charged, and thrust them into his belt.</p>
+
+<p>Next he went up to Judith, and laid his hand on her
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Time presses,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I have to be off. Your
+answer.&rdquo; She looked up. The board was studded with
+drops of water. She had not wept, these stains were not
+her tears, they were the sweat of anguish off her brow
+that had run over the board.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Judith, our answer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I accept.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Unreservedly?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Unreservedly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stay,&rdquo; said he. He spoke low, indistinctly articulated
+sentences. &ldquo;Let there be no holding back between us.
+You shall know all. You have wondered concerning the
+death of Wyvill&mdash;I know you have asked questions about
+it. I killed him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He paused.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You heard of the wreckers on that vessel cast on
+Doom Bar. I was their leader.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again he paused.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You thought I had sent Jamie out with a light to
+mislead the vessel. You thought right. I did have her
+drawn to her destruction, and by your brother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He paused again. He saw Judith&rsquo;s hand twitch: that
+was the only sign of emotion in her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Lady Knighton&rsquo;s jewels. I took them off her&mdash;it
+was I who tore her ear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again a stillness. The sky outside shone in at the
+window, a lurid red. From the kitchen could be heard
+the voice of a man singing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now you know all,&rdquo; said Coppinger. &ldquo;I would not
+have you take me finally, fully, unreservedly without
+knowing the truth. Give me your resolve.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She slightly lifted her hands; she looked steadily
+into his face with a stony expression in hers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot help myself&mdash;unreservedly yours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he caught her to him, pressed her to his heart
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>386]</a></span>
+and kissed her wet face&mdash;wet as though she had plunged
+it into the sea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To-morrow,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;to-morrow shall be our true
+wedding.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And he dashed out of the house.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>387]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER LII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">TO JUDITH.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>In the smugglers&rsquo; cave were Oliver Menaida and the
+party of Preventive men, not under his charge, but under
+that of Wyvill. This man, though zealous in the execution
+of his duty, and not averse, should the opportunity
+offer, of paying off a debt in full with a bullet, instead of
+committing his adversary to the more lenient hands of
+the law, shared in that failing, if it were a failing, of
+being unable to do anything without being primed with
+spirits, a failing that was common at that period, to
+coast-guards and smugglers alike. The latter had to be
+primed in order to run a cargo, and the former must be
+in like condition to catch them at it. It was thought,
+not unjustly, that the magistrates before whom, if caught,
+the smugglers were brought, needed priming in order to
+ripen their intellects for pronouncing judgment. But
+it was not often that a capture was effected. When it
+was, priming was allowed for the due solemnization of
+the fact by the captors; failure always entitled them to
+priming in order to sustain their disappointment with
+fortitude. Wyvill had lost a brother in the cause, and
+his feelings often overcame him when he considered his
+loss, and their poignancy had to be slaked with the
+usual priming. It served, as its advocates alleged, as a
+great stimulant to courage; but it served also, as its
+deprecators asserted, as a solvent to discipline.</p>
+
+<p>Now that the party were in possession of the den of
+their adversaries, such a success needed, in their eyes,
+commemoration. They were likely, speedily, to have a
+tussle with the smugglers, and to prepare themselves
+for that required the priming of their nerves and sinews.
+They had had a sharp struggle with the sea in rounding
+Pentyre Point, and their unstrung muscles and joints
+demanded screwing up again by the same means.</p>
+
+<p>The Black Prince had been discerned through the falling
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>388]</a></span>
+darkness drawing shoreward with the rising tide;
+but it was certain that for another hour or two the men
+would have to wait before she dropped anchor, and those
+ashore came down to the unloading.</p>
+
+<p>A lantern was lighted, and the cave was explored.
+Certainly Coppinger&rsquo;s men from the land would arrive
+before the boats from the Black Prince, and it was determined
+to at once arrest them, and then await the contingent
+in the boats, and fall on them as they landed.
+The party was small, it consisted of but seven men, and
+it was advisable to deal with the smugglers piecemeal.</p>
+
+<p>The men, having leisure, brought out their food, and
+tapped the keg they had procured at the Rock. It was
+satisfactory to them that the Black Prince was apparently
+bent on discharging the cargo that night and in
+that place, thus they would not have to wait in the cave
+twenty-four hours, and not, after all, be disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All your pistols charged?&rdquo; asked Wyvill.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aye, aye, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then take your suppers while you may. We shall
+have hot work presently. Should a step be heard below,
+throw a bit o&rsquo; sailcloth over the lantern, Samson.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver was neither hungry nor thirsty. He had both
+eaten and drunk sufficient when at the station. He therefore
+left the men to make their collation, prime their
+spirits, pluck up their courage, screw up their nerves,
+polish their wits, all with the same instrument, and descended
+the slope of shingle, stooped under the brow of
+rock that divided the lower from the upper cave, and
+made his way to the entrance, and thence out over the
+sands of the cove. He knew that the shore could be
+reached only by the donkey-path, or by the dangerous
+track down the chimney&mdash;a track he had not discovered
+till he had made a third exploration of the cave. Down
+this tortuous and perilous descent he was convinced the
+smugglers would not come. It was, he saw, but rarely
+used, and designed as a way of escape only on an emergency.
+A too-frequent employment of this path would
+have led to a treading of the turf on the cliff above, and
+to a marking of the line of descent, that would have
+attracted the attention of the curious, and revealed to
+the explorer the place of retreat.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver, therefore, went forward toward the point
+where the donkey-path reached the sands, deeming it
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>389]</a></span>
+advisable that a watch should be kept on this point, so
+that his party might be forewarned in time of the approach
+of the smugglers.</p>
+
+<p>There was much light in the sky, a fantastic, mysterious
+glow, as though some great conflagration were
+taking place and the clouds over head reflected its flicker.</p>
+
+<p>There passed throbs of shadow from side to side, and
+as Oliver looked he could almost believe that the light
+he saw proceeded from a great bonfire, such as was
+kindled on the Cornish Moors on Midsummer&rsquo;s Eve, and
+that the shadows were produced by men and women
+dancing round the flames and momentarily intercepting
+the light.</p>
+
+<p>Then ensued a change. The rose hue vanished suddenly,
+and in its place shot up three broad ribbons of
+silver light; and so bright and clear was the light that
+the edge of the cliff against it was cut as sharp as a black
+silhouette on white paper, and he could see every bush
+of gorse there, and a sheep&mdash;a solitary sheep.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he was startled by seeing a man before him,
+coming over the sand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who goes there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&mdash;Oliver! I have found you!&rdquo; the answer was
+in his father&rsquo;s voice. &ldquo;Oh, well, I got fidgeted, and I
+thought I would come and see if you had arrived.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For heaven&rsquo;s sake, you have told no one of our
+plans?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;bless you, boy&mdash;not I. You know you told me
+yourself, before going to the station, what you intended,
+and I was troubled and anxious, and I came to see how
+things were turning out. The Black Prince is coming
+in; she will anchor shortly. She can&rsquo;t come beyond the
+point yonder. I was sure you would be here. How many
+have you brought with you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But six.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Too few. However, now I am with you, that makes
+eight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish you had not come, father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My boy, I did not come only on your account. I
+have my poor little Ju so near my heart that I long to
+put out if only a finger to liberate her from that ruffian,
+whom by the way I have challenged.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;but I have stepped in as your substitute. I
+shall, I trust, try conclusions with Coppinger to-night.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>390]</a></span>
+Come with me to the cave I told you of. We will send a
+man to keep guard at the foot of the donkey path.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver led the way; the sands reflected the illumination
+of the sky, and the foam that swept up the beach
+had a rosy tinge. The waves hissed as they rushed up
+the shore, as though impatient at men speaking and not
+listening to the voice of the ocean, that should subdue
+all human tongues, and command mute attention. And
+yet that roar is inarticulate, it is like the foaming fury
+of the dumb, that strives with noise and gesticulation to
+explain the thoughts that are working within.</p>
+
+<p>In the cave it was dark, and Oliver lighted a piece of
+touchwood as a means of observing the shelving ground,
+and taking his direction, till he passed under the brow
+of rock and entered the upper cavern.</p>
+
+<p>After a short scramble, the dim yellow glow of light
+from this inner recess was visible, when Oliver extinguished
+his touchwood and pushed on, guided by this
+light.</p>
+
+<p>On entering the upper cave he was surprised to find
+the guards lying about asleep, and snoring. He went at
+once to Wyvill, seized him by the arm and shook him,
+but none of his efforts could rouse him. He lay as a log,
+or as one stunned.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Father! help me with the others,&rdquo; said Oliver in
+great concern.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida went from one to the other, spoke to
+each, shook him, held the lantern to his eyes; he raised
+their heads; when he let go his hold, they fell back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the meaning of this?&rdquo; asked Oliver.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said old Menaida, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you what this
+means. There is a rogue among them, and their drink
+has been drugged with deadly night-shade. You might
+be sure of this&mdash;that among six coast-guards one would
+be in the pay of Coppinger. Which is it? Whoever it
+is, he is pretending to be as dead drunk and stupefied as
+the others, and which is the man, Noll?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot tell. This keg of brandy was got at the
+Rock Inn.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was got there and there drugged, but by one of
+this company. Who is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Oliver, waxing wrathful, &ldquo;and what is
+more, notice was sent to Coppinger to be on his guard.
+I saw the sexton going in the direction of Pentyre.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>391]</a></span>
+&ldquo;That man is a rascal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now we shall not encounter Coppinger. He
+will be warned and not come.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Trust him to come. He has heard of this. He will
+come and murder them all as he did Wyvill.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver felt as though a frost had fallen on him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hah!&rdquo; said old Menaida. &ldquo;Never trust anyone in
+this neighborhood; you cannot tell who is not in the pay
+or under the control of Coppinger, from the magistrate
+on the bench to the huckster who goes round the country.
+Among these six men, one is a spy and a traitor.
+Which it is we cannot tell. There is nothing else to be
+done but to bind them all, hand and foot. There is
+plenty of cord here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Plenty. But surely not Wyvill.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wyvill and all. How can you say that he is not the
+man who has done it? Many a fellow has carried his
+brother in his pocket. What if he has been bought?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Old Menaida was right. He had not lived so many
+years in the midst of smugglers without having learned
+something of their ways. His advice must be taken, for
+the danger was imminent. If, as he supposed, full information
+had been sent to Captain Cruel, then he and
+his men would be upon them shortly.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver hastily brought together all the cord of a suitable
+thickness he could find, and the old father raised and
+held each Preventive man, while Oliver firmly bound
+him hand and foot. As he did not know which was shamming
+sleep, he must bind all. Of the six, five were
+wholly unconscious what was being done to them, and
+the sixth thought it advisable to pretend to be as the
+rest, for he was quite aware that neither Oliver nor his
+father would scruple to silence him effectually did he
+show signs of animation.</p>
+
+<p>When all were made fast, old Mr. Menaida said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Noll, my boy, are you armed?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, father. When I went from home I expected to
+return. I did not know I should want weapons. But
+these fellows have their pistols and cutlasses.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Try the pistols. There, take that of the man Wyvill.
+Are you sure they are loaded?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know they are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, try.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver took Wyvill&rsquo;s pistol, and put in the ramrod.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>392]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Oh yes, it is loaded.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Make sure. Draw the loading. You don&rsquo;t know what
+it is to have to do with Coppinger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver drew the charge, and then, as is usual, when
+the powder has been removed, blew down the barrel.
+Then he observed that there was a choke somewhere.
+He took the pistol to the lantern, opened the side of the
+lantern and examined it. The touch-hole was plugged
+with wax.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Mr. Menaida. &ldquo;The man who drugged
+the liquor waxed the touch-holes of the pistols. Try
+the rest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oliver did not now trouble himself to draw the charges;
+he cocked each man&rsquo;s pistol and drew the trigger. Not
+one would discharge. All had been treated in like manner.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver thought for a moment what was to be done.
+He dared not leave the sleeping men unprotected, and he
+and his father alone were insufficient to defend them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Father,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;there is but one thing that can
+be done now: you must go at once, fly to the nearest
+farmhouses and collect men, and, if possible, hold the
+donkey path before Coppinger and his men arrive. If
+you are too late, pursue them. I will choke the narrow
+entrance, and will light a fire. Perhaps they may be
+afraid when they see a blaze here, and may hold off.
+Anyhow, I can defend this place for a while. But I
+don&rsquo;t expect that they will attack it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida at once saw that his son&rsquo;s judgment was
+right, and he hurried out of the cave, Oliver holding the
+light to assist him to descend, and then he made his way
+over the sands to the path, and up that to the downs.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner was he gone than Oliver collected what
+wood and straw were there, sailcloth, oilcloth, everything
+that was combustible, and piled them up into a heap,
+then applied the candle to them, and produced a flame.
+The wood was damp and did not burn freely, but he was
+able to awake a good fire that filled the cavern with light.
+He trusted that when the smugglers saw that their den
+was in the possession of the enemy they would not risk
+the attempt to enter and recover it. They might not,
+they probably did not, know to what condition the
+holders of the cave were reduced.</p>
+
+<p>The light of the fire roused countless bats that had
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>393]</a></span>
+made the roof of the cave their resting-place, and
+they flew wildly to and fro with whirr of wings and
+shrill screams.</p>
+
+<p>Oliver set to work with all haste to heap stones so as
+to choke the entrance from the lower cave, by which he
+anticipated that the smugglers would enter, should they
+resolve on so desperate a course. But owing to the
+rapid inclination, the pebbles yielded, and what he piled
+up rolled down. He then, with great effort, got the
+boat thrust down to the opening, and by main force
+drew it partly across. It was not possible for him completely
+to block the entrance, but by planting the boat
+athwart it, he could prevent several men from entering at
+once, and whoever did enter must scramble over the bulwarks
+of the boat.</p>
+
+<p>All this took some time, and he was thus engaged,
+when his attention was suddenly arrested by the click of
+a pistol brought to the cock. He looked hastily about
+him, and saw Coppinger, who, unobserved, had descended
+by the chimney, and now by the light of the
+fire was taking deliberate aim at him. Oliver drew back
+behind a rock.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You coward!&rdquo; shouted Captain Cruel. &ldquo;Come out
+and be shot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am no coward,&rdquo; answered Oliver. &ldquo;Let us meet
+with equal arms. I have a cutlass.&rdquo; He had taken
+one from the side of a sleep-drunk coast-guard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I prefer to shoot you down as a dog,&rdquo; said Coppinger.</p>
+
+<p>Then holding his pistol levelled in the direction of
+Oliver, he approached the sleeping men. Oliver saw
+at once his object: he would liberate the confederate.
+He stepped out from behind the rock, and immediately
+the pistol was discharged. A bat fell at the feet of Oliver.
+Had not that bat at the moment whizzed past his
+head and received the ball in its soft and yielding body,
+the young man would have fallen shot through his head.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger uttered a curse, and put his hand to his
+belt and drew forth his second pistol. But Oliver sprang
+forward, and with a sweep of his cutlass caught him
+on the wrist with the blade as he was about to touch
+the trigger. The pistol fell from his hand, and a rush
+of blood overflowed the back of the hand.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger remained for one minute motionless. So
+did Oliver, who did not again raise his cutlass.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>394]</a></span>
+But at that moment a harsh voice was heard crying,
+&ldquo;There he is, my men, at him; beat his brains out. A
+guinea for the first man who knocks him over,&rdquo; and from
+the further side of the boat, illumined by the glare from
+the fire, were seen the faces of Mr. Scantlebray, his
+brother, and several men, who began to scramble over
+the obstruction.</p>
+
+<p>Then, and then only in his life, did Coppinger&rsquo;s heart
+fail him. His right hand was powerless; the sharp
+blade had severed the tendons, and blood was flowing
+from his wrist in streams. One pistol was discharged,
+the other had fallen. In a minute he would be in the
+hands of his deadly enemies.</p>
+
+<p>He turned and fled. The light from the fire, the illumined
+smoke, rose through the chimney, and by that he
+could run up the familiar track, reach the platform in
+the face of the cliff, thence make his way by the path
+up which he had formerly borne Judith. He did not
+hesitate, he fled, and Oliver, also without hesitation, pursued
+him. As he went up the narrow track, his feet trod
+in and were stained with the blood that had fallen from
+Coppinger&rsquo;s wounded arm, but he did not notice it&mdash;he
+was unaware of it till the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>Coppinger reached the summit of the cliffs. His feet
+were on the down. He ran at once in the direction of
+Othello Cottage. His only chance of safety lay there.
+There he could hide in the attic, and Judith would never
+betray him. In his desperate condition, wounded, his
+blood flowing from him in streams, hunted by his foes,
+that one thought was in him&mdash;Judith&mdash;he must go to
+Judith. She would never betray him, she would be
+hacked to death rather than give him up. To Judith as
+his last refuge!</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>395]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER LIII.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">IN THE SMOKE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Judith left Pentyre Glaze when she had somewhat
+recovered herself after the interview with Coppinger
+and her surrender. She had fought a brave battle, but
+had been defeated and must lay down her arms. Resistance
+was no longer possible if Jamie was to be saved
+from a miserable fate. Now by the sacrifice of herself she
+had assured to, him a future of calm and innocent happiness.
+She knew that with Uncle Zachie and Oliver he
+would be cared for, kindly treated, and employed. Uncle
+Zachie himself was not to be trusted; whatever he might
+promise, his good nature was greater than his judgment.
+But she had confidence in Oliver, who would
+prove a check on the over-indulgence which his father
+would allow. But Jamie would forget her. His light
+and unretentive mind was not one to harbor deep feeling.
+He would forget her when on board ship in his
+pleasure at running about the vessel chattering with the
+sailors, and would only think of her if he wanted aught
+or was ill. Rapidly the recollection of her, love for her,
+would die out of his mind and heart; and as it died out
+of his, her thought and love for him would deepen and
+become more fixed, for she would have no one, nothing
+in the world to think of and love save her twin-brother.</p>
+
+<p>She walked on in the dark winter night, lighted only
+by the auroral glow overhead, and was conscious of a
+smell of tobacco-smoke that so persistently seemed to
+follow her that she was forced to notice it. She became
+uneasy, thinking that someone was walking behind the
+hedge with a pipe, watching her, perhaps waiting to
+spring out upon her when distant from the house, where
+her cries for help might not be heard.</p>
+
+<p>She stood still. The smell was strong. She climbed
+the hedge on one side and looked over; as far as she
+could discern in the red glimmer from the flushed sky
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>396]</a></span>
+there was no one there. She listened, she could hear no
+step. She walked hastily on to a gate in the hedge on
+the opposite side and went through that. The smell of
+burning tobacco was as strong there. Judith turned in
+the lane and walked back in the direction of the house.
+The smell pursued her. It was strange. Could she
+carry the odor in her clothes? She turned again and resumed
+her walk toward Othello Cottage. Now she was
+distinctly aware that the scent came to her on the wind.
+Her perplexity on this subject served as a diversion of
+her mind from her own troubles.</p>
+
+<p>She emerged upon the downs, and made her way
+across them toward the cottage that lay in a dip, not
+to be observed except by one close to it. The wind
+when it brushed up from the sea was odorless.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she came in sight of Othello Cottage, and
+in spite of the darkness could see that a strange, dense,
+white fog surrounded it, especially the roof, which
+seemed to be wearing a white wig. In a moment
+she understood what this signified. Othello Cottage
+was on fire, and the stores of tobacco in the attic were
+burning. Judith ran. Her own troubles were forgotten
+in her alarm for Jamie. No fire as yet had broken
+through the roof.</p>
+
+<p>She reached the door, which was open. Mr. Scantlebray
+in leaving had not shut the door, so as to allow the
+boy to crawl out should he recover sufficient intelligence
+to see that he was in danger.</p>
+
+<p>It is probable that Scantlebray, senior, would have
+made further efforts to save Jamie, but that he believed
+he would meet with his brother, and two or three men
+he was bringing with him, near the house, and then it
+would be easy unitedly to drag the boy forth. He did,
+indeed, meet with Obadiah, but also at the same time
+with Uncle Zachie Menaida and a small party of farm-laborers,
+and when he heard that Mr. Menaida desired
+help to secure Coppinger and the smugglers, he thought
+no more of the boy and joined heartily in the attempt to
+rescue the Preventive men and take Coppinger.</p>
+
+<p>Through the open door dashed Judith, crying out to
+Jamie whom she could not see. There was a dense,
+white cloud in the room, let down from above, and curling
+out at the top of the door, whence it issued as steam
+from a boiler. It was impossible to breathe in this fog
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>397]</a></span>
+of tobacco-smoke, and Judith knew that if she allowed it
+to surround her she would be stupefied. She therefore
+stooped and entered, calling Jamie. Although the thick
+mattress of white smoke had not as yet descended to the
+floor, and had left comparatively clear air beneath it&mdash;the
+in-draught from the door&mdash;yet the odor of the burning
+tobacco impregnated the atmosphere. Here and there
+curls of smoke descended, dropped capriciously from the
+bed of vapor above, and wantonly played about.</p>
+
+<p>Judith saw her brother lying at full length near the
+fire. Scantlebray had drawn him partly to the door, but
+he had rolled back to his former position near the hearth,
+perhaps from feeling the cold wind that blew in on him.</p>
+
+<p>There was no time to be lost. Judith knew that flame
+must burst forth directly&mdash;directly the burning tobacco
+had charred through the rafters and flooring of the
+attic and allowed the fresh air from below to rush in
+and, acting as a bellows, blow the whole mass of glowing
+tobacco into flame. It was obvious that the fire had
+originated above in the attic. There was nothing burning
+in the room, and the smoke drove downward in
+strips through the joints of the boards overhead.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jamie, come, come with me!&rdquo; She shook the boy,
+she knelt by him and raised him on her knee. He was
+stupefied with cognac, and with the fumes of the burning
+tobacco he had inhaled.</p>
+
+<p>She must drag him forth. He was no longer half-conscious
+as he had been when Mr. Scantlebray made
+the same attempt; the power to resist was now gone
+from him.</p>
+
+<p>Judith was delicately made, and was not strong, but
+she put her arms under the shoulders of Jamie and herself
+on her knees and dragged him along the floor. He
+was as heavy as a corpse. She drew him a little way and
+desisted, overcome, panting, giddy, faint. But time
+must not be lost. Every moment was precious. Judith
+knew that overhead in the loft was something that
+would not smoulder and glow, but burst into furious
+flame&mdash;spirits. Not, indeed, many kegs, but there were
+some. When this became ignited their escape would
+be impossible. She drew Jamie further up; she was
+behind him. She thrust him forward as she moved on
+upon her knees, driving him a step further at every advance.
+It was slow and laborious work. She could not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>398]</a></span>
+maintain this effort for long and fell forward on her
+hands, and he fell also at the same time on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Then she heard a sound, a roar, an angry growl. The
+shock of the fall, and striking his head against the slate
+pavement, roused Jamie momentarily and he also heard
+the noise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ju! the roar of the sea!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A sea of fire, Jamie! Oh, do push to the door.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He raised himself on his hands, looked vacantly round,
+and fell again into stupid unconsciousness. Now still
+on her knees, but with a brain becoming bewildered with
+the fumes, she crept to his head, placed herself between
+him and the door, and holding his shoulders, dragged
+him toward her, she moving backward.</p>
+
+<p>Even thus she could make but little way with him;
+his boot-tops caught in the edge of a slate slab ill fitted
+in the floor and held him, so that she could not pull him
+to her with the additional resistance thus caused. Then
+an idea struck her. Staggering to her feet, holding her
+breath, she plunged in the direction of the window, beat
+it open, and panted in the inrush of pure air. With
+this new current wafted in behind her she returned amid
+the smoke, and for a moment it dissipated the density of
+the cloud about her. The window had faced the wind,
+and the rush of air through it was more strong than that
+which entered by the door. And yet this expedient did
+not answer as she had expected, for the column of strong,
+cold air pouring in from a higher level threw the cloud
+into confusion, stirred it up as it were, and lessened the
+space of uninvaded atmosphere below the descending
+bed of vapor.</p>
+
+<p>Again she went to Jamie. The roar overhead had increased,
+some vent had been found, and the attic was in
+full flagrance. Now, drawing a long breath at the door,
+near the level of the ground, she returned to her brother
+and disengaged his foot from the slate, then dragged,
+then thrust, sometimes at his head, sometimes at his
+side; then again she had her arms round him, and
+swung herself forward to the right knee sideways; then
+brought up the other knee, and swung herself with the
+dead weight in her arms again to the right, and thus
+was able to work her way nearer to the door, and, as she
+got nearer to the door, the air was clearer, and she was
+able to breathe freer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>399]</a></span>
+At length she laid hold of the jamb with one hand,
+and with the other she caught the lappel of the boy&rsquo;s
+coat, and assisted by the support she had gained, was
+able to drag him over the doorstep.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment passed her rushed a man. She
+looked, saw and knew Coppinger. As he rushed passed,
+the blood squirting from his maimed right hand fell on
+the girl lying prostrate at the jamb to which she had
+clung.</p>
+
+<p>And now within a red light appeared, glowing through
+the mist as a fiery eye, not only so, but every now and
+then a fiery rain descended. The burning tobacco had
+consumed the boards and was falling through in red
+masses.</p>
+
+<p>Judith had but just brought her brother into safety,
+or comparative safety, and now another, Coppinger, had
+plunged into the burning cottage, rushed to almost certain
+death. She cried to him as well as she could with
+her short breath. She could not leave him within. Why
+had he run there? She saw on her dress the blood that
+had fallen from him. She went outside the hut and
+dragged Jamie forth and laid him on the grass. Then,
+without hesitation, inhaling all the pure air she could, she
+darted once more into the burning cottage. Her eyes
+were stung with the smoke, but she pushed on, and found
+Coppinger under the open window, fallen on the floor,
+his back and head against the wall, his arms at his side,
+and the blood streaming over the slate pavement from
+his right gashed wrist. Accident or instinct&mdash;it could
+not have been judgment&mdash;had carried him to the only
+spot in the room where pure air was to be found, and
+there it descended like a rushing waterfall, blowing
+about the prostrate man&rsquo;s wild long hair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith!&rdquo; said he, looking at her, and he raised his
+left hand. &ldquo;Judith, this is the end.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Captain Coppinger, do come out. The house is
+burning. Quick, or it will be too late.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is too late for me,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I am wounded.&rdquo;
+He held up his half-severed hand. &ldquo;I gave this to you
+and you rejected it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come&mdash;oh, do come&mdash;or you and I will be burnt.&rdquo;
+In the inrushing sweep of air both were clear of the
+smoke and could breathe.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head. &ldquo;I am followed. I will not be
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>400]</a></span>
+taken. I am no good now&mdash;without my right hand. I
+will not go to jail.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She caught his arm, and tearing the kerchief from
+her neck, bound it round and round where the veins
+were severed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is in vain,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have lost most of my
+blood. Ju!&rdquo;&mdash;he held her with his left hand&mdash;&ldquo;Ju, if
+you live, swear to me, swear you will sign the register.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was looking into his face&mdash;it was ghastly, partly
+through loss of blood, partly because lighted by the
+glare of the burning tobacco that dropped from above.
+Then a sense of vast pity came surging over her along
+with the thought of how he had loved her. Into her
+burning eyes tears came.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Judith!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I made my confession to you&mdash;I
+told you my sins. Give me also my release. Say you
+forgive me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had forgotten her peril, forgotten about the fire
+that was above and around, as she looked at his eyes,
+and, holding the maimed right arm, felt the hot blood
+welling through her kerchief and running over her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I pray you, oh, I pray you, come outside. There is
+still time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again he shook his head. &ldquo;My time is up. I do not
+want to live. I have not your love. I could never win
+it, and if I went outside I should be captured and sent
+to prison. Will you give me my absolution?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; And in her trembling concern
+for him&mdash;in the intensity of her pity, sorrow, care
+for him&mdash;she drew his wounded hand to her and pressed
+it against her heaving bosom.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What I mean is, can you forgive me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed&mdash;indeed I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&mdash;all I have done?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She saw only a dying man before her, a man who
+might be saved if he would, but would not because her
+love was everything to him, and <em>that</em> he never, never
+could gain. Would she make no concession to him?
+could she not draw a few steps nearer? As she looked
+into his face and held his bleeding arm to her bosom,
+pity overpowered her&mdash;pity, when she saw how strong
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>401]</a></span>
+had been this wild and wicked man&rsquo;s love. Now she
+truly realized its depth, its intensity, and its tenderness
+alternating with stormy blasts of passion, as he
+wavered between hope and fear, and the despair that
+was his when he knew he must lose her.</p>
+
+<p>Then she stooped, and, the tears streaming over her
+face, she kissed him on his brow, and then on his lips,
+and then drew back, still holding his maimed hand, with
+both of hers crossed over it, to her heaving bosom.
+Kneeling, she had her eyes on his, and his were on hers&mdash;steady,
+searching, but with a gentle light in them.
+And as she thus looked she became unconscious, and
+sank, still holding his hand, on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>At that instant, through the smoke and raining
+masses of burning tobacco, plunged Oliver Menaida. He
+saw Judith, bent, caught her in his arms, and rushed
+back through the door.</p>
+
+<p>A moment after and he was at the entrance again, to
+plunge through and rescue his wounded adversary; but
+the moment when this could be done was past. There
+was an explosion above, followed by a fall as of a sheet
+of blue light, a curtain of fire through the mist of white
+smoke. No living man could pass that. Oliver went
+round to the window, and strove to enter by that way;
+the man who had taken refuge there was still in the
+same position, but he had torn the kerchief of Judith
+from the bleeding arm, and he held it to his mouth,
+looking with fixed eyes into the falling red and blue fires
+and the swirling flocks of white smoke.</p>
+
+<p>There were iron bars at the window. Oliver tore at
+these to displace them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Coppinger!&rdquo; he shouted, &ldquo;stand up&mdash;help me to
+break these bars!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Coppinger would not move, or, possibly, the
+power was gone from him. The bars were firmly set.
+They had been placed in the windows by Coppinger&rsquo;s
+orders and under his own supervision, to secure Othello
+Cottage, his store-place, against invasion by the inquisitive.</p>
+
+<p>At length Oliver succeeded in wrenching one bar
+away, and now a gap was made through which he might
+reach Coppinger and draw him forth through the window.
+He was scrambling in when the Captain staggered
+to his feet.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>402]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Let me alone,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;You have won what I have
+lost. Let me alone. I am defeated.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he stepped into the mass of smoke and falling
+liquid blue fire and dropping masses of red glowing tobacco.
+A moment more, and the whole of the attic
+floor, with all the burning contents of the garret, fell in.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="padtop"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>403]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHAPTER LIV.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="vsmlfont">SQUAB PIE.</span></h2>
+
+
+<p>Next morning, at an early hour, Judith, attended by
+Mr. Zachary Menaida, appeared at the rectory of St.
+Enodoc. She was deadly pale, but there was decision in
+her face. She asked to see Mr. Desiderius Mules in his
+study, and was shown into what had, in her father&rsquo;s days,
+been the pantry.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Menaida had a puzzled look in his watery eyes.
+He had been up all night, and indeed it had been a night
+in which few in the neighborhood had slept, excepting
+Mr. Mules, who knew nothing of what had happened.
+The smugglers, alarmed by the fire at Othello Cottage,
+and by the party collected by Mr. Menaida to guard the
+descent to the beach, had not ventured to force their way
+to the cave. The Black Prince, finding that no signal
+was made from the ledge above the cave, suspected mischief,
+heaved anchor and bore away. The stupefied
+members of the Preventive service were conveyed to the
+nearest cottages, and there left to recover. As for Othello
+Cottage, it was a blazing and smoking mass of fire, and
+till late on the following day could not be searched.
+There was no fire-engine anywhere near; nor would a
+fire-engine have availed to save either the building or its
+contents.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Mules appeared, Judith said in a quiet but
+firm tone, &ldquo;I have come to sign the register. Mr. Menaida
+is here. I do it willingly, and with no constraint.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you. This is most considerate to my feelings.
+I wish all my flock would obey my advice as you are
+now doing,&rdquo; said the rector, and produced the book,
+which Judith signed with trembling hand.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Desiderius was quite ignorant of the events of the
+night. He had no idea that at that time Captain Coppinger
+was dead.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>404]</a></span>
+It was not till some days later that Judith understood
+why, at the last moment, with death before his eyes,
+Coppinger had urged on her this ratification of her marriage.
+It was not till his will was found, that she understood
+his meaning. He had left to her, as his wife,
+everything that he possessed. No one knew of any
+relatives that he had, for no one knew whence he came.
+No one ever appeared to put in a claim against the
+widow.</p>
+
+<p>On the second day the remains of the burnt cottage
+were cleared away, and then the body of Cruel Coppinger
+was found, fearfully charred, and disfigured past
+recognition. There were but two persons who knew
+that this blackened corpse belonged to the long dreaded
+captain, and these were Judith and Oliver. When the
+burnt body was cleared from the charred fragments of
+clothing that were about it one article was discovered
+uninjured. About his throat Coppinger had worn a
+silk handkerchief, and this as well as the collar of his
+coat had preserved his neck and the upper portion of
+his chest from injury such as had befallen the rest of
+his person. And when the burnt kerchief was removed,
+and the singed cloth of the coat-collar, there was discovered
+round the throat a narrow black band, and sewn
+into this band, one golden thread of hair, encircling the
+neck.</p>
+
+
+<p class="break">Are our readers acquainted with that local delicacy
+entitled, in Cornwall and Devon, Squab Pie? To enlighten
+the ignorant, it shall be described. First, however,
+we premise that of squab pies there are two sorts:
+Devonian squab and Cornish squab. The Cornish squab
+differs from the Devonian squab in one particular; that
+shall be specified presently.</p>
+
+<p><em>How to Make a Squab Pie.</em>&mdash;Take half a pound of veal,
+cut into nice square pieces, and put a layer of them at
+the bottom of a pie-dish. Sprinkle over these a portion
+of herbs, spices, seasoning, lemon-peel, and the yolks of
+eggs cut in slices; cut a quarter of a pound of boiled
+ham very thin, and put in a layer of this. Take half a
+pound of mutton cut into nice pieces, and put a layer
+of them on the top of the veal. Sprinkle as before
+with herbs and spices. Take half a pound of beef, cut
+into nice pieces, and put a layer of them on top of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>405]</a></span>
+the mutton. Sprinkle as before with herbs and spices.
+Cut up half a dozen apples very fine, also half a dozen
+onions, mix, and proceed to ram the onions and apples
+into every perceivable crevice. Take half a dozen pilchards,
+remove the bones, chop up and strew the whole
+pie with pilchards. Then fill up with clotted cream, till
+the pie-dish will hold no more. (For Cornish squab
+add, treated in like manner, a cormorant.) Proceed to
+lay a puff paste on the edge of the dish. Then insert a
+tablespoon and stir the contents, till your arm aches.
+Cover with crust or ornament it with leaves, brush it
+over with the yolk of an egg, and bake in a well-heated
+oven for one or one and a half hour, or longer, should
+the pie be very large (two in the case of a Cornish squab,
+and the cormorant very tough).</p>
+
+<p>In one word, a squab pie is a scrap pie. So is the
+final chapter of a three-volume novel. It is made up,
+from the first word to the last, of scraps of all kinds,
+toothsome and the reverse.</p>
+
+<p>Now let the reader observe&mdash;he has been already supplied
+with scraps. He has learned the result of Mr.
+Menaida&rsquo;s collecting men to assist him against the
+smugglers. Also of his expedition along with Judith
+to the rectory of St. Enodoc. Also he has heard the
+provisions of Captain Coppinger&rsquo;s will; also that this
+will was not contested. He has also heard of the recovery
+of the Captain&rsquo;s body from the burnt cottage.</p>
+
+<p>Is not this a collection of scraps cut very small? But
+there are more, of a different character, with which this
+chapter will be made up, before the pie-crust closes over
+it with a flourishing &ldquo;Finis&rdquo; to ornament it.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Scantlebray had lost his wife, who had been an ailing
+woman for some years, and being a widower, cast
+about his eyes for a second wife, after the way of widowers.
+There was not the excuse of a young family
+needing a prudent housewife to manage the children,
+for Mr. Scantlebray had only one daughter, who had
+been allotted by her father and by popular opinion to
+Captain Coppinger, but had failed to secure him. Mr.
+Scantlebray, though an active man, had not amassed
+much money, and if he could add to his comforts, provide
+himself with good eating and good drinking, by
+marrying a woman with money, he was not averse to
+so doing. Now, Mr. Scantlebray had lent a ready ear
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>406]</a></span>
+to the voice of rumor which made Miss Dionysia Trevisa
+the heiress who had come in for all the leavings
+of that rich old spinster, Miss Ceely, of St. Austell,
+and Mr. Scantlebray gave credit to this rumor, and acting
+on it, proposed to and was accepted by Miss Dionysia.</p>
+
+<p>Now when, after marriage, Mr. Scantlebray found
+out that the sweet creature he had taken to his side
+was worth under a quarter of the sum he had set down
+at the lowest figure, at which he could endure her,
+and when the late Miss Trevisa, now the second Mrs.
+Scantlebray, learned from her husband&rsquo;s lips that he had
+married her only for her money, and not for her good
+looks or for any good quality she was supposed to be
+endowed with, the reader, knowing something of the
+characters of these two persons, may conjecture, if he
+please, what sort of scenes ensued daily between them,
+and it may be safely asserted that the bitterest enemies
+of either could not have desired for each a more unenviable
+lot than was theirs.</p>
+
+<p>Very shortly after the death of Captain Coppinger,
+Judith and Jamie left Bristol in a vessel, with Uncle
+Zachie, bound for Lisbon. Oliver Menaida had gone to
+Oporto before, to make arrangements for his father. It
+was settled that Judith and her brother should live
+with the old man, and that the girl should keep house
+for him. Oliver would occupy his old quarters, that
+belonged to the firm in which he was a partner.</p>
+
+<p>It is a strange thing&mdash;but after the loss of Coppinger
+Judith&rsquo;s mind reverted much to him, she thought long
+and tenderly of his considerations for her, his patience
+with her, his forbearance, his gentleness toward her, and
+of his intense and enduring love. His violence she forgot,
+and she put down the crimes he had committed to
+evil association, or to an irregulated, undisciplined conscience,
+excusable in a measure in one who had not
+the advantages she had enjoyed, of growing up under
+the eye of a blameless, honorable, and right-minded
+father.</p>
+
+<p>In the Consistory Court of Canterbury is a book of
+the marriages performed at the Oporto factory, by the
+English chaplain resident there. It begins in the year
+1788 and ends in 1807. The author has searched this
+volume in vain for a marriage between Oliver Menaida
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>407]</a></span>
+and Judith Coppinger. If such a marriage did take
+place, it must have been after 1807, but the book of
+register of marriages later than this date is not to be
+found in the Consistory Court.</p>
+
+<p>Were they married?</p>
+
+<p>On inquiry at St. Enodoc no information has been
+obtained, for neither Judith nor the Menaidas had any
+relatives there with whom they communicated. If Mrs.
+Scantlebray ever heard, she said nothing, or, at all
+events, nothing she said concerning them has been remembered.</p>
+
+<p>Were they ever married?</p>
+
+<p>That question the reader must decide as he likes.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center">FINIS.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 379px;">
+<img src="images/backcover.jpg" width="379" height="600"
+alt="Back cover of the book" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="bbox">
+<p><b>Transcriber's Note</b></p>
+
+<p>A Table of Contents has been added by the transcriber for the convenience of
+the reader.</p>
+
+<p>Saint is abbreviated to both S. and St. in this book.</p>
+
+<p>The author refers to plants by the names of escallonica and eschalonia.
+It's likely that both are errors for escallonia, but they are preserved as printed.</p>
+
+<p>Instances of archaic spelling (e.g. taught meaning taut) are preserved
+as printed. Variant spelling (e.g. jewelry and jewellery) is preserved
+as printed except where there was a clear prevalence of one form over
+another, as follows:</p>
+
+<div class="amends">
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_21">21</a>&mdash;Wyvell amended to Wyvill&mdash;"... on one occasion a preventive
+man named Ewan Wyvill, ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_21">21</a>&mdash;Wyvell amended to Wyvill&mdash;"Wyvill had disappeared, and the
+body was recovered ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_79">79</a>&mdash;jassamine amended to jessamine&mdash;"... a-smelling to the
+jessamine is the surveyor ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_191">191</a>&mdash;stupified amended to stupefied&mdash;"... so stupefied was he by
+his terrors, ..."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Hyphenation usage has been made consistent.</p>
+
+<p>Minor punctuation errors have been repaired.</p>
+
+<p>The following printer errors have been fixed:</p>
+
+<div class="amends">
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_31">31</a>&mdash;contion amended to condition&mdash;"The chancel of the church was
+in that condition ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_32">32</a>&mdash;omitted 'a' added for sense&mdash;"... was to be anticipated from
+a broken-hearted widow and helpless children ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_34">34</a>&mdash;repeated 'the' deleted&mdash;"... who occupied a double cottage
+at the little hamlet of Polzeath."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_35">35</a>&mdash;she amended to he&mdash;"... with a jerk of the rein and a set of
+the brow he showed ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_56">56</a>&mdash;Bluet amended to Blue&mdash;"... Boy Blue blew his horn, ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_63">63</a>&mdash;companian amended to companion&mdash;"... the friend and companion
+of Judith."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_70">70</a>&mdash;it amended to in&mdash;"... the voice summoned her to come in,
+..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_104">104</a>&mdash;repeated 'had' deleted&mdash;"... had seen him with his carriers
+defile out of the lane ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_120">120</a>&mdash;keenist amended to keenest&mdash;"A cry of intensest, keenest
+anguish ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_126">126</a>&mdash;repeated 'the' deleted&mdash;"That star on the black sea&mdash;what
+did it mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_162">162</a>&mdash;aught amended to ought&mdash;"... but that he was told it was
+there, he ought to see it, ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_163">163</a>&mdash;hime amended to home&mdash;"... &ldquo;may I get out now and go home?&rdquo;"</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_168">168</a>&mdash;springs amended to sprigs&mdash;"... covered with sprigs of nondescript pink
+and blue flowers."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_238">238</a>&mdash;repeated 'and' deleted&mdash;"... and never once as I&rsquo;m a
+Christian ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_241">241</a>&mdash;coldnesss amended to coldness&mdash;"... formed the resolution to
+break down the coldness ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_247">247</a>&mdash;or amended to of&mdash;"... to take this accumulation of wreckage ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_248">248</a>&mdash;officient amended to officiant&mdash;"... immediately over the
+head of the officiant, ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_259">259</a>&mdash;remorselesss amended to remorseless&mdash;"... remorseless and
+regardless of others, ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_278">278</a>&mdash;Judiah amended to Judith&mdash;"&ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; answered Judith, ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_285">285</a>&mdash;Travisa amended to Trevisa&mdash;"... by a little sentiment for
+Miss Judith Trevisa, ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_337">337</a>&mdash;chose amended to choose&mdash;"... and if I choose to live in it
+I can."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_351">351</a>&mdash;superfluous 'where' deleted before 'there'&mdash;"Judith walked where,
+near the edge of the cliffs, there was no snow, ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_362">362</a>&mdash;breakfeast amended to breakfast&mdash;"... in utter
+guilelessness, prepared my breakfast for me, ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_397">397</a>&mdash;kness amended to knees&mdash;"... and herself on her knees and
+dragged him ..."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's In the Roar of the Sea, by Sabine Baring-Gould
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Roar of the Sea, by Sabine Baring-Gould
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: In the Roar of the Sea
+
+Author: Sabine Baring-Gould
+
+Release Date: August 31, 2012 [EBook #40631]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+         IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA
+
+                   BY
+
+            S. BARING-GOULD
+
+               AUTHOR OF
+  "THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS," "URITH," ETC.
+
+
+                NEW YORK
+         NATIONAL BOOK COMPANY
+            6 MISSION PLACE
+
+
+            Copyright, 1891,
+                   BY
+      UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY.
+        [_All rights reserved._]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+   CHAPTER                                              PAGE
+
+        I. OVER AND DONE                                   5
+
+       II. A PASSAGE OF ARMS                              12
+
+      III. CAPTAIN CRUEL                                  20
+
+       IV. HOP-O'-MY-THUMB                                24
+
+        V. THE BUTTONS                                    31
+
+       VI. UNCLE ZACHIE                                   39
+
+      VII. A VISIT                                        45
+
+     VIII. A PATCHED PEACE                                52
+
+       IX. C. C.                                          60
+
+        X. EGO ET REGINA MEA                              67
+
+       XI. JESSAMINE                                      75
+
+      XII. THE CAVE                                       85
+
+     XIII. IN THE DUSK                                    93
+
+      XIV. WARNING OF DANGER                             100
+
+       XV. CHAINED                                       109
+
+      XVI. ON THE SHINGLE                                114
+
+     XVII. FOR LIFE OR DEATH                             122
+
+    XVIII. UNA                                           128
+
+      XIX. A GOLDFISH                                    136
+
+       XX. BOUGHT AND SOLD                               144
+
+      XXI. OTHELLO COTTAGE                               151
+
+     XXII. JAMIE'S RIDE                                  158
+
+    XXIII. ALL IS FOR THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS     166
+
+     XXIV. A NIGHT EXCURSION                             175
+
+      XXV. FOUND                                         182
+
+     XXVI. AN UNWILLING PRISONER                         189
+
+    XXVII. A RESCUE                                      195
+
+   XXVIII. AN EXAMINATION                                203
+
+     XXIX. ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER                        211
+
+      XXX. THROUGH THE TAMARISKS                         221
+
+     XXXI. AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS                          229
+
+    XXXII. A DANGEROUS GIFT                              237
+
+   XXXIII. HALF A MARRIAGE                               244
+
+    XXXIV. A BREAKFAST                                   252
+
+     XXXV. JACK O' LANTERN                               259
+
+    XXXVI. THE SEA-WOLVES                                269
+
+   XXXVII. BRUISED NOT BROKEN                            275
+
+  XXXVIII. A CHANGE OF WIND                              282
+
+    XXXIX. A FIRST LIE                                   290
+
+       XL. THE DIAMOND BUTTERFLY                         297
+
+      XLI. A DEAD-LOCK                                   306
+
+     XLII. TWO LETTERS                                   313
+
+    XLIII. THE SECOND TIME                               320
+
+     XLIV. THE WHIP FALLS                                327
+
+      XLV. GONE FROM ITS PLACE                           334
+
+     XLVI. A SECOND LIE                                  341
+
+    XLVII. FAST IN HIS HANDS                             349
+
+   XLVIII. TWO ALTERNATIVES                              357
+
+     XLIX. NOTHING LIKE GROG                             364
+
+        L. PLAYING FORFEITS                              372
+
+       LI. SURRENDER                                     380
+
+      LII. TO JUDITH                                     387
+
+     LIII. IN THE SMOKE                                  395
+
+      LIV. SQUAB PIE                                     403
+
+
+
+
+IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+OVER AND DONE.
+
+
+Sitting in the parsonage garden, in a white frock, with a pale green
+sash about her waist, leaning back against the red-brick wall, her
+glowing copper hair lit by the evening sun, was Judith Trevisa.
+
+She was tossing guelder-roses into the air; some dozens were strewn
+about her feet on the gravel, but one remained of the many she had
+plucked and thrown and caught, and thrown and caught again for a sunny
+afternoon hour. As each greenish-white ball of flowers went up into
+the air it diffused a faint but pleasant fragrance.
+
+"When I have done with you, my beauty, I have done altogether," said
+Judith.
+
+"With what?"
+
+Her father spoke. He had come up unperceived by the girl, burdened
+with a shovel in one hand and a bucket in the other, looking pale,
+weary, and worn.
+
+"Papa, you nearly spoiled my game. Let me finish, and I will speak."
+
+"Is it a very serious matter, Judith, and engrossing?"
+
+"Engrossing, but not serious, _Je m'amuse_."
+
+The old rector seated himself on the bench beside her, and he also
+leaned back against the red-brick, gold-and-gray-lichen-spotted wall,
+and looked into the distance before him, waiting till his daughter was
+ready to speak, not, perhaps, sorry to have a little rest first, for
+he was overtired. Had Judith not been absorbed in her ball-play with
+the guelder-rose bunch she would have noticed his haggard appearance,
+the green hue about his mouth, the sunken eyes, the beaded brow. But
+she was counting the rebounds of her ball, bent on sustaining her play
+as long as was possible to her.
+
+She formed a charming picture, fresh and pure, and had the old man not
+been overtired, he would have thought so with a throb of parental
+pride.
+
+She was a child in size, slender in build, delicate in bone, with face
+and hands of porcelain transparency and whiteness, with, moreover,
+that incomparable complexion only seen in the British Isles, and then
+only with red-gold hair.
+
+Her bronze-leather shoes were the hue of some large flies that basked
+and frisked on the warm wall, only slightly disturbed by the girl's
+play, to return again and run and preen themselves again, and glitter
+jewel-like as studs on that sun-baked, lichen-enamelled wall. Her
+eyes, moreover, were lustrous as the backs of these flies, iridescent
+with the changing lights of the declining sun, and the changed
+direction of her glance following the dancing ball of guelder-rose.
+Her long fingers might have been of china, but that when raised so
+that the sun struck their backs they were turned to a translucent
+rose. There was no color in her cheek, only the faintest suffusion of
+pink on the temples below where the hair was rolled back in waves of
+luminous molten copper dashing against the brick wall.
+
+"I have done my work," said the rector.
+
+"And I my play," responded the girl, letting the ball drop into her
+lap and rock there from one knee to the other. "Papa, this fellow is
+the conqueror; I have made him dance thirty-five great leaps, and he
+has not yet fallen--wilfully. I let him go down and get breath just
+now. There lie all my dancers dead about me. They failed very
+speedily."
+
+"You cannot be forever playing, Ju."
+
+"That is why I play now, papa. When playtime is over I shall be in
+earnest indeed."
+
+"Indeed?" the old man sighed.
+
+Judith looked round, and was shocked to see how ill her father
+appeared to be.
+
+"Are you very tired, darling papa?"
+
+"Yes--overtired."
+
+"Have you been at your usual task?"
+
+"Yes, Ju--an unprofitable task."
+
+"Oh, papa!"
+
+"Yes, unprofitable. The next wind from the sea that blows--one will
+blow in an hour--and all my work is undone."
+
+"But, my dear papa!" Judith stooped and looked into the bucket.
+"Why!--what has made you bring a load of sand up here? We want none in
+the garden. And such a distance too!--from the church. No wonder you
+are tired."
+
+"Have I brought it?" he asked, without looking at the bucket.
+
+"You have, indeed. That, if you please, is unprofitable work, not the
+digging of the church out of the sand-heaps that swallow it."
+
+"My dear, I did not know that I had not emptied the pail outside the
+church-yard gate. I am very tired; perhaps that explains it."
+
+"No doubt about it, papa. It was work quite as unprofitable but much
+more exhausting than my ball-play. Now, papa, while you have been
+digging your church out of the sand, which will blow over it again
+to-night, you say, I have been pitching and tossing guelder-roses. We
+have been both wasting time, one as much as the other."
+
+"One as much as the other," repeated the old man. "Yes, dear, one as
+much as the other, and I have been doing it all my time here--morally,
+spiritually, as well as materially, digging the church out of the
+smothering sands, and all in vain--all profitless work. You are right,
+Ju."
+
+"Papa," said Judith hastily, seeing his discouragement and knowing his
+tendency to depression, "papa, do you hear the sea how it roars? I
+have stood on the bench, more than once, to look out seaward, and find
+a reason for it; but there is none--all blue, blue as a larkspur; and
+not a cloud in the sky--all blue, blue there too. No wind either, and
+that is why I have done well with my ball-play. Do you hear the roar
+of the sea, papa?" she repeated.
+
+"Yes, Ju. There will be a storm shortly. The sea is thrown into great
+swells of rollers, a sure token that something is coming. Before night
+a gale will be on us."
+
+Then ensued silence. Judith with one finger trifled with the
+guelder-rose bunch in her lap musingly, not desirous to resume her
+play with it. Something in her father's manner was unusual, and made
+her uneasy.
+
+"My dear!" he began, after a pause, "one must look out to sea--into
+the vast mysterious sea of the future--and prepare for what is coming
+from it. Just now the air is still, and we sit in this sweet, sunny
+garden, and lean our backs against the warm wall, and smell the
+fragrance of the flowers; but we hear the beating of the sea, and know
+that a mighty tempest, with clouds and darkness, is coming. So in
+other matters we must look out and be ready--count the time till it
+comes. My dear, when I am gone----"
+
+"Papa!"
+
+"We were looking out to sea and listening. That must come at some
+time--it may come sooner than you anticipate." He paused, heaved a
+sigh, and said, "Oh, Jamie! What are we to do about Jamie?"
+
+"Papa, I will always take care of Jamie."
+
+"But who will take care of you?"
+
+"Of me? Oh, papa, surely I can take care of myself!"
+
+He shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"Papa, you know how strong I am in will--how firm I can be with
+Jamie."
+
+"But all mankind are not Jamies. It is not for you I fear, as much as
+for you and him together. He is a trouble and a difficulty."
+
+"Jamie is not so silly and troublesome as you think. All he needs is
+application. He cannot screw his mind down to his books--to any
+serious occupation. But that will come. I have heard say that the
+stupidest children make the sharpest men. Little by little it will
+come, but it will come certainly. I will set myself as my task to make
+Jamie apply his mind and become a useful man, and I shall succeed,
+papa." She caught her father's hand between hers, and slapped it
+joyously, confidently. "How cold your hand is, papa! and yet you look
+warm."
+
+"You were always Jamie's champion," said her father, not noticing her
+remark relative to himself.
+
+"He is my twin brother, so of course I am his champion. Who else would
+be that, were not I?"
+
+"No--no one else. He is mischievous and troublesome--poor, poor
+fellow. You will always be to Jamie what you are now, Ju--his
+protector or champion? He is weak and foolish, and if he were to fall
+into bad hands--I shudder to think what might become of him."
+
+"Rely on me, dearest father."
+
+Then he lifted the hand of his daughter, and looked at it with a faint
+smile. "It is very small, it is very weak, to fight for self alone,
+let alone yourself encumbered with Jamie."
+
+"I will do it, papa, do not fear."
+
+"Judith, I must talk very gravely with you, for the future is very
+dark to me; and I am unable with hand or brain to provide anything
+against the evil day. Numbness is on me, and I have been hampered on
+every side. For one thing, the living has been so poor, and my
+parishioners so difficult to deal with, that I have been able to lay
+by but a trifle. I believe I have not a relative in the world--none,
+at all events, near enough and known to me that I dare ask him to care
+for you----"
+
+"Papa, there is Aunt Dionysia."
+
+"Aunt Dionysia," he repeated, with a hesitating voice. "Yes; but Aunt
+Dionysia is--is not herself capable of taking charge of you. She has
+nothing but what she earns, and then--Aunt Dionysia is--is--well--Aunt
+Dionysia. I don't think you could be happy with her, even if, in the
+event of my departure, she were able to take care of you. Then--and
+that chiefly--she has chosen, against my express wishes--I may say, in
+defiance of me--to go as housekeeper into the service of the man, of
+all others, who has been a thorn in my side, a hinderer of God's work,
+a--But I will say no more."
+
+"What! Cruel Coppinger?"
+
+"Yes, Cruel Coppinger. I might have been the means of doing a little
+good in this place, God knows! I only _think_ I might; but I have been
+thwarted, defied, insulted by that man. As I have striven to dig my
+buried church out of the overwhelming sands, so have I striven to lift
+the souls of my poor parishioners out of the dead engulfing sands of
+savagery, brutality, very heathenism of their mode of life, and I have
+been frustrated. The winds have blown the sands back with every gale
+over my work with spade, and that stormblast Coppinger has devastated
+every trace of good that I have done, or tried to do, in spiritual
+matters. The Lord reward him according to his works."
+
+Judith felt her father's hand tremble in hers.
+
+"Never mind Coppinger now," she said, soothingly.
+
+"I must mind him," said the old man, with severe vehemence. "And--that
+my own sister should go, go--out of defiance, into his house and serve
+him! That was too much. I might well say, I have none to whom to look
+as your protector." He paused awhile, and wiped his brow. His pale
+lips were quivering. "I do not mean to say," said he, "that I acted
+with judgment, when first I came to S. Enodoc, when I spoke against
+smuggling. I did not understand it then. I thought with the thoughts
+of an inlander. Here--the sands sweep over the fields, and agriculture
+is in a measure impossible. The bays and creeks seem to
+invite--well--I leave it an open question. But with regard to
+wrecking--" His voice, which had quavered in feebleness, according
+with the feebleness of his judgment relative to smuggling, now gained
+sonorousness. "Wrecking, deliberate wrecking, is quite another matter.
+I do not say that our people are not justified in gathering the
+harvest the sea casts up. There always must be, there will be wrecks
+on this terrible coast; but there has been--I know there has been,
+though I have not been able to prove it--deliberate provocation of
+wrecks, and that is the sin of Cain. Had I been able to prove----"
+
+"Never mind that now, dear papa. Neither I nor Jamie are, or will be,
+wreckers. Talk of something else. You over-excite yourself."
+
+Judith was accustomed to hear her father talk in an open manner to
+her. She had been his sole companion for several years, since his
+wife's death, and she had become the _confidante_ of his inmost
+thoughts, his vacillations, his discouragements, not of his hopes--for
+he had none, nor of his schemes--for he formed none.
+
+"I do not think I have been of any use in this world," said the old
+parson, relapsing into his tone of discouragement, the temporary flame
+of anger having died away. "My sowing has produced no harvest. I have
+brought light, help, strength to none. I have dug all day in the
+vineyard, and not a vine is the better for it; all cankered and
+fruitless."
+
+"Papa--and me! Have you done nothing for me!"
+
+"You!"
+
+He had not thought of his child.
+
+"Papa! Do you think that I have gained naught from you? No strength,
+no resolution from seeing you toil on in your thankless work, without
+apparent results? If I have any energy and principle to carry me
+through I owe it to you."
+
+He was moved, and raised his trembling hand and laid it on her golden
+head.
+
+He said no more, and was very still.
+
+Presently she spoke. His hands weighed heavily on her head.
+
+"Papa, you are listening to the roar of the sea?"
+
+He made no reply.
+
+"Papa, I felt a cold breath; and see, the sun has a film over it.
+Surely the sea is roaring louder!"
+
+His hand slipped from her head and struck her shoulder--roughly, she
+thought. She turned, startled, and looked at him. His eyes were open,
+he was leaning back, almost fallen against the wall, and was deadly
+pale.
+
+"Papa, you are listening to the roar?"
+
+Then a thought struck her like a bullet in the heart.
+
+"Papa! Papa! My papa!--speak--speak!"
+
+She sprang from the bench--was before him. Her left guelder-rose had
+rolled, had bounded from her lap, and had fallen on the sand the old
+man had listlessly brought up from the church. His work, her play,
+were forever over.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A PASSAGE OF ARMS.
+
+
+The stillness preceding the storm had yielded. A gale had broken over
+the coast, raged against the cliffs of Pentyre, and battered the walls
+of the parsonage, without disturbing the old rector, whom no storm
+would trouble again, soon to be laid under the sands of his buried
+church-yard, his very mound to be heaped over in a few years, and
+obliterated by waves of additional encroaching sand. Judith had not
+slept all night. She--she, a mere child, had to consider and arrange
+everything consequent on the death of the master of the house. The
+servants--cook and house-maid--had been of little, if any, assistance
+to her. When Jane, the house-maid, had rushed into the kitchen with
+the tidings that the old parson was dead, cook, in her agitation,
+upset the kettle and scalded her foot. The gardener's wife had come in
+on hearing the news, and had volunteered help. Judith had given her
+the closet-key to fetch from the stores something needed; and Jamie,
+finding access to the closet, had taken possession of a pot of
+raspberry jam, carried it to bed with him, and spilled it over the
+sheets, besides making himself ill. The house-maid, Jane, had
+forgotten in her distraction to shut the best bedroom casement, and
+the gale during the night had wrenched it from its hinges, flung it
+into the garden on the roof of the small conservatory, and smashed
+both. Moreover, the casement being open, the rain had driven into the
+room unchecked, had swamped the floor, run through and stained the
+drawing-room ceiling underneath, the drips had fallen on the mahogany
+table and blistered the veneer. A messenger was sent to Pentyre Glaze
+for Miss Dionysia Trevisa, and she would probably arrive in an hour or
+two.
+
+Mr. Trevisa, as he had told Judith, was solitary, singularly so. He
+was of a good Cornish family, but it was one that had dwindled till
+it had ceased to have other representative than himself. Once well
+estated, at Crockadon, in S. Mellion, all the lands of the family had
+been lost; once with merchants in the family, all the fortunes of
+these merchants industriously gathered had been dissipated, and
+nothing had remained to the Reverend Peter Trevisa but his family name
+and family coat, a garb or, on a field gules. It really seemed as
+though the tinctures of the shield had been fixed in the crown of
+splendor that covered the head of Judith. But she did not derive this
+wealth of red-gold hair from her Cornish ancestors, but from a
+Scottish mother, a poor governess whom Mr. Peter Trevisa had married,
+thereby exciting the wrath of his only sister and relative, Miss
+Dionysia, who had hitherto kept house for him, and vexed his soul with
+her high-handed proceedings. It was owing to some insolent words used
+by her to Mrs. Trevisa that Peter had quarrelled with his sister at
+first. Then when his wife died, she had forced herself on him as
+housekeeper, but again her presence in the house had become irksome to
+him, and when she treated his children--his delicate and dearly loved
+Judith--with roughness, and his timid, silly Jamie with harshness,
+amounting in his view to cruelty--harsh words had passed between them;
+sharp is, however, hardly the expression to use for the carefully
+worded remonstrances of the mild rector, though appropriate enough to
+her rejoinders. Then she had taken herself off and had become
+housekeeper to Curll Coppinger, Cruel Coppinger, as he was usually
+called, who occupied Pentyre Glaze, and was a fairly well-to-do single
+man.
+
+Mr. Trevisa had not been a person of energy, but one of culture and
+refinement; a dispirited, timid man. Finding no neighbors of the same
+mental texture, nor sympathetic, he had been driven to make of Judith,
+though a child, his companion, and he had poured into her ear all his
+troubles, which largely concerned the future of his children. In his
+feebleness he took comfort from her sanguine confidence, though he was
+well aware that it was bred of ignorance, and he derived a weak
+satisfaction from the thought that he had prepared her morally, at all
+events, if in no other fashion, for the crisis that must come when he
+was withdrawn.
+
+Mr. Peter Trevisa--Peter was a family Christian name--was for
+twenty-five years rector of S. Enodoc, on the north coast of Cornwall
+at the mouth of the Camel. The sand dunes had encroached on the church
+of S. Enodoc, and had enveloped the sacred structure. A hole was
+broken through a window, through which the interior could be reached,
+where divine service was performed occasionally in the presence of the
+church-wardens, so as to establish the right of the rectors, and
+through this same hole bridal parties entered to be coupled, with
+their feet ankle-deep in sand that filled the interior to above the
+pew-tops.
+
+But Mr. Trevisa was not the man to endure such a condition of affairs
+without a protest and an effort to remedy it. He had endeavored to
+stimulate the farmers and land-owners of the parish to excavate the
+buried church, but his endeavors had proved futile. There were several
+reasons for this. In the first place, and certainly foremost, stood
+this reason: as long as the church was choked with sand and could not
+be employed for regular divine service, the tithe-payers could make a
+grievance of it, and excuse themselves from paying their tithes in
+full, because, as they argued, "Parson don't give us sarvice, so us
+ain't obliged to pay'n." They knew their man, that he was
+tender-conscienced, and would not bring the law to bear upon them; he
+would see that there was a certain measure of justness in the
+argument, and would therefore not demand of them a tithe for which he
+did not give them the _quid pro quo_. But they had sufficient
+shrewdness to pay a portion of their tithes, so as not to drive him to
+extremities and exhaust his patience. It will be seen, therefore, that
+in the interests of their pockets the tithe-payers did not want to
+have their parish church excavated. Excavation meant weekly service
+regularly performed, and weekly service regularly performed would be
+followed by exaction of the full amount of rent-charge. Then, again,
+in the second place, should divine service be resumed in the church of
+S. Enodoc, the parishioners would feel a certain uneasiness in their
+consciences if they disregarded the summons of the bell; it might not
+be a very lively uneasiness, but just such an irritation as might be
+caused by a fly crawling over the face. So long as there was no
+service they could soothe their consciences with the thought that
+there was no call to make an effort to pull on Sunday breeches and
+assume a Sunday hat, and trudge to the church. Therefore, secondly,
+for the ease of their own consciences, it was undesirable that S.
+Enodoc should be dug out of the sand.
+
+Then lastly, and thirdly, the engulfment of the church gave them a
+cherished opportunity for being nasty to the rector, and retailing
+upon him for his incaution in condemning smuggling and launching out
+into anathema against wrecking. As he had made matters disagreeable to
+them--tried, as they put it, to take bread out of their mouths, they
+saw no reason why they should spend money to please him.
+
+Mr. Trevisa had made very little provision for his children,
+principally, if not wholly, because he could not. He had received from
+the farmers and land-owners a portion of tithe, and had been contented
+with that rather than raise angry feelings by demanding the whole. Out
+of that portion he was able to put aside but little.
+
+Aunt Dionysia arrived, a tall, bony woman, with hair turning gray,
+light eyes and an aquiline nose, a hard, self-seeking woman, who
+congratulated herself that she did not give way to feelings.
+
+"I feel," said she, "as do others, but I don't show my feelings as
+beggars expose their bad legs."
+
+She went into the kitchen. "Hoity-toity!" she said to the cook, "fine
+story this--scalding yourself. Mind this, you cook meals or no wage
+for you." To Jane, "The mischief you have done shall be valued and
+deducted from any little trifle my brother may have left you in his
+will. Where is Jamie? Give me that joint of fishing-rod; I'll beat him
+for stealing raspberry jam."
+
+Jamie, however, on catching a glimpse of his aunt had escaped into the
+garden and concealed himself. The cook, offended, began to clatter the
+saucepans.
+
+"Now, then," said Mrs. Trevisa--she bore the brevet-rank--"in a house
+of mourning what do you mean by making this noise, it is impertinent
+to me."
+
+The house-maid swung out of the kitchen, muttering.
+
+Mrs. Trevisa now betook herself up-stairs in quest of her niece, and
+found her with red eyes.
+
+"I call it rank _felo-de-se_," said Aunt Dionysia. "Every one
+knew--_he_ knew, that he had a feeble heart, and ought not to be
+digging and delving in the old church. Who sent the sand upon it? Why,
+Providence, I presume. Not man. Then it was a flying in the face of
+Providence to try to dig it out. Who wanted the church? He might have
+waited till the parishioners asked for it. But there--where is Jamie?
+I shall teach him a lesson for stealing raspberry jam."
+
+"Oh, aunt, not now--not now!"
+
+Mrs. Trevisa considered a moment, then laid aside the fishing-rod.
+
+"Perhaps you are right. I am not up to it after my walk from Pentyre
+Glaze. Now, then, what about mourning? I do not suppose Jamie can be
+measured by guesswork. You must bring him here. Tell him the whipping
+is put off till another day. Of course you have seen to black things
+for yourself. Not? Why, gracious heavens! is everything to be thrown
+on my shoulders? Am I to be made a beast of burden of? Now, no mewling
+and pewking. There is no time for that. Whatever _your_ time may be,
+_mine_ is valuable. I can't be here forever. Of course every
+responsibility has been put on me. Just like Peter--no consideration.
+And what can I do with a set of babies? I have to work hard enough to
+keep myself. Peter did not want my services at one time; now I am put
+upon. Have you sent for the undertaker? What about clothing again? I
+suppose you know that you must have mourning? Bless my heart! what a
+lot of trouble you give me."
+
+Mrs. Trevisa was in a very bad temper, which even the knowledge that
+it was seemly that she should veil it could not make her restrain. She
+was, no doubt, to a certain extent fond of her brother--not much,
+because he had not been of any advantage to her; and no doubt she was
+shocked at his death, but chiefly because it entailed on herself
+responsibilities and trouble that she grudged. She would be obliged to
+do something for her nephew and niece; she would have to provide a
+home for them somewhere. She could not take them with her to
+Coppinger's house, as she was there as a salaried servant, and not
+entitled to invite thither her young relatives. Moreover, she did not
+want to have them near her. She disliked young people; they gave
+trouble, they had to be looked after, they entailed expenses. What was
+she to do with them? Where was she to put them? What would they have
+to live upon? Would they call on her to part-maintain them? Miss
+Dionysia had a small sum put away, and she had no intention of
+breaking into it for them. It was a nest-egg, and was laid by against
+an evil day that might come on herself. She had put the money away for
+herself, in her old age, not for the children of her feeble brother
+and his lack-penny wife to consume as moth and rust. As these thoughts
+and questions passed through her mind, Aunt Dionysia pulled open
+drawers, examined cupboards, pried open closets, and searched chests
+and wardrobes.
+
+"I wonder now what he has put by for them," she said aloud.
+
+"Do you mean my dear papa?" asked Judith, whose troubled heart and
+shaken spirits were becoming angry and restless under the behavior of
+the hard, unfeeling woman.
+
+"Yes, I do," answered Mrs. Trevisa, facing round, and glaring
+malevolently at her niece. "It is early days to talk of this, but it
+must be done sooner or later, and if so, the sooner the better. There
+is money in the house, I suppose?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"I must know. You will want it--bills must be paid. You will eat and
+drink, I suppose? You must be clothed. I'll tell you what: I'll put
+the whole case into the hands of Lawyer Jenkyns, and he shall demand
+arrears of tithes. I know what quixotish conduct Peter----"
+
+"Aunt, I will not allow this." A light flush came into the girl's
+cheek.
+
+"It is all very well talking," said Aunt Dionysia; "but black is not
+white, and no power on earth can make me say that it is so. Money must
+be found. Money must be paid for expenses, and it is hard that I
+should have to find it; so I think. What money is there in the house
+for present necessities? I must know."
+
+Suddenly a loud voice was heard shouting through the house--
+
+"Mother Dunes! old Dunes! I want you."
+
+Judith turned cold and white. Who was this that dared to bellow in the
+house of death, when her dear, dear father lay up-stairs with the
+blinds down, asleep? It was an insult, an outrage. Her nerves had
+already been thrilled, and her heart roused into angry revolt by the
+cold, unfeeling conduct of the woman who was her sole relative in the
+world. And now, as she was thus quivering, there came this boisterous
+shout.
+
+"It is the master!" said Mrs. Trevisa, in an awestruck voice, lowered
+as much as was possible to her.
+
+To Coppinger alone she was submissive, cringing, obsequious.
+
+"What does he mean by this--this conduct?" asked Judith, trembling
+with wrath.
+
+"He wants me."
+
+Again a shout. "Dunes! old fool! the keys!"
+
+Then Judith started forward, and went through the door to the head of
+the staircase. At the foot stood a middle-sized, strongly built,
+firmly knit man, in a dress half belonging to the land and half to the
+sea, with high boots on his legs, and slouched hat on his head. His
+complexion was olive, his hair abundant and black, covering cheeks and
+chin and upper lip. His eyes were hard and dark. He had one brown hand
+on the banister, and a foot on the first step, as though about to
+ascend, when arrested by seeing the girl at the head of the stairs
+before him. The house was low, and the steps led without a break
+directly from the hall to the landing which gave communication to the
+bedrooms. There was a skylight in the roof over the staircase, through
+which a brilliant flood of pure white light fell over Judith, whereas
+every window had been darkened by drawn blinds. The girl had found no
+sombre dress suitable to wear, and had been forced to assume the same
+white gown as the day before, but she had discarded the green sash and
+had bound a black ribbon about her waist, and another about her
+abundant hair. A black lace kerchief was drawn over her shoulders
+across her breast and tied at her back. She wore long, black mittens.
+
+Judith stood motionless, her bosom rising and falling quickly, her
+lips set, the breath racing through her nostrils, and one hand resting
+on the banister at the stair-head.
+
+In a moment her eyes met those of Coppinger, and it was at once as
+though a thrill of electric force had passed between them.
+
+He desisted from his attempt to ascend, and said, without moving his
+eyes from hers, in a subdued tone, "She has taken the keys," but he
+said no more. He drew his foot from the step hesitatingly, and
+loosened his hand from the banister, down which went a thrill from
+Judith's quivering nerves, and he stepped back.
+
+At the same moment she descended a step, still looking steadily into
+the dark, threatening pupils, without blinking or lowering her orbs.
+Emboldened by her boiling indignation, she stood on the step she had
+reached with both feet firmly planted there, and finding that the
+banister rattled under her hand she withdrew it, and folded her arms.
+Coppinger raised his hand to his head and took off his hat. He had a
+profusion of dark, curly, flowing hair, that fell and encircled his
+saturnine face.
+
+Then Judith descended another step, and as she did so he retreated a
+step backwards. Behind him was the hall door, open; the light lay wan
+and white there on the gravel, for no sunshine had succeeded the gale.
+At every step that Judith took down the stair Coppinger retreated.
+Neither spoke; the hall was still, save for the sound of their breath,
+and his came as fast as hers. When Judith had reached the bottom she
+turned--Coppinger stood in the doorway now--and signed to her aunt to
+come down with the keys.
+
+"Take them to him--Do not give them here--outside."
+
+Mrs. Trevisa, surprised, confounded, descended the stair, went by her,
+and out through the door. Then Judith stepped after her, shut the door
+to exclude both Aunt Dionysia and that man Coppinger, who had dared,
+uninvited, on such a day to invade the house.
+
+She turned now to remount the stairs, but her strength failed her, her
+knees yielded, and she sank upon a step, and burst into a flood of
+tears and convulsive sobs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+CAPTAIN CRUEL.
+
+
+Captain Coppinger occupied an old farmhouse, roomy, low-built, granite
+quoined and mullioned, called Pentyre Glaze, in a slight dip of the
+hills near the cliffs above the thundering Atlantic. One ash shivered
+at the end of the house--that was the only tree to be seen near
+Pentyre Glaze. And--who was Coppinger? That is more than can be told.
+He had come--no one knew whence. His arrival on the north coast of
+Cornwall was mysterious. There had been haze over the sea for three
+days. When it lifted, a strange vessel of foreign rig was seen lying
+off the coast. Had she got there in the fog, not knowing her course;
+or had she come there knowingly, and was making for the mouth of the
+Camel? A boat was seen to leave the ship, and in it a man came ashore;
+the boat returned to the vessel, that thereupon spread sail and
+disappeared in the fog that re-descended over the water. The man gave
+his name as Coppinger--his Christian name, he said, was Curll, and he
+was a Dane; but though his intonation was not that of the Cornish, it
+was not foreign. He took up his residence in S. Enodoc at a farm, and
+suddenly, to the surprise of every one, became by purchase the
+possessor of Pentyre Glaze, then vacant and for sale. Had he known
+that the estate was obtainable when he had come suddenly out of the
+clouds into the place to secure it? Nobody knew, and Coppinger was
+silent.
+
+Thenceforth Pentyre Glaze became the harbor and den of every lawless
+character along the coast. All kinds of wild uproar and reckless
+revelry appalled the neighborhood day and night. It was discovered
+that an organized band of smugglers, wreckers, and poachers made this
+house the centre of their operations, and that "Cruel Coppinger" was
+their captain. There were at that time--just a century ago--no
+resident magistrates or gentry in the immediate neighborhood. The
+yeomen were bribed, by kegs of spirits left at their doors, to
+acquiesce in a traffic in illicit goods, and in the matter of exchange
+they took their shares. It was said that on one occasion a preventive
+man named Ewan Wyvill, who had pursued Coppinger in his boat, was
+taken by him, and his head chopped off by the captain, with his boat
+axe, on the gunwale. Such was the story. It was never proved. Wyvill
+had disappeared, and the body was recovered headless on the Doom Bar.
+That violence had been used was undoubted, but who had committed the
+crime was not known, though suspicion pointed to Coppinger.
+Thenceforth none ever called him Curll; by one consent he was named
+Cruel. In the West of England every one is given his Christian name.
+An old man is Uncle, and an old woman Aunt, and any one in command is
+a Captain. So Coppinger was known as Captain Cruel, or as Cruel
+Coppinger.
+
+Strange vessels were often seen appearing at regular intervals on the
+coast, and signals were flashed from the one window of Pentyre Glaze
+that looked out to sea.
+
+Among these vessels, one, a full-rigged schooner, soon became
+ominously conspicuous. She was for long the terror of the Cornish
+coast. Her name was The Black Prince. Once, with Coppinger on board,
+she led a revenue cutter into an intricate channel among the rocks,
+where, from knowledge of the bearings, The Black Prince escaped
+scathless, while the king's vessel perished with all on board.
+
+Immunity increased Coppinger's daring. There were certain bridle-roads
+along the fields over which he exercised exclusive control. He issued
+orders that no man should pass over them by night, and accordingly
+from that hour none ever did.[A]
+
+    [A] Many stories of Cruel Coppinger may be found in Hawker's
+    Footprints of Former Men in Cornwall. I have also told them
+    in my Vicar of Morwenstow. I have ventured to translate the
+    scene of Coppinger's activity further west, from Wellcombe to
+    S. Enodoc. But, indeed, he is told of in many places on this
+    coast.
+
+Moreover, if report spoke true--and reports do not arise without
+cause--Coppinger was not averse from taking advantage, and that
+unlawful advantage, of a wreck. By "lawful" and "unlawful" two
+categories of acts are distinguished, not by the laws of the land but
+by common consent of the Cornish conscience. That same Cornish
+conscience distinguished wrecking into two classes, as it
+distinguished then, and distinguishes still, witchcraft into two
+classes. The one, white witchcraft, is legitimate and profitable, and
+to be upheld; the other, black witchcraft, is reprehensible, unlawful,
+and to be put down. So with wrecking. The Bristol Channel teemed with
+shipping, flights of white sails passed in the offing, and these
+vessels were, when inward bound, laden with sugars and spices from the
+Indies, or with spirits and wines from France. If outward bound they
+were deep in the water with a cargo of the riches of England.
+
+Now, should a gale spring up suddenly and catch any of these vessels,
+and should the gale be--as it usually is, and to the Cornish folk,
+favorably is--from the northwest, then there was no harbor of refuge
+along that rock-bound coast, and a ship that could not make for the
+open was bound inevitably to be pounded to pieces against the
+precipitous walls of the peninsula. If such were the case, it was
+perfectly legitimate for every householder in the district to come
+down on the wreck and strip it of everything it contained.
+
+But, on the other hand, there was wrecking that was disapproved of,
+though practised by a few, so rumor said, and that consisted in luring
+a vessel that was in doubt as to her course, by false signals, upon a
+reef or bar, and then, having made a wreck of her, to pillage her.
+When on a morning after a night in which there had been no gale, a
+ship was found on the rocks, and picked as clean as the carcase of a
+camel in the desert, it was open to suspicion that this ship had not
+been driven there by wind or current; and when the survivors, if they
+reached the shore, told that they had been led to steer in the
+direction where they had been cast away by certain lights that had
+wholly deceived them, then it was also open to suspicion that these
+lights had been purposely exhibited for the sake of bringing that
+vessel to destruction; and when, further, it was proved that a certain
+set or gang of men had garnered all the profits, or almost all the
+profits, that accrued from a wreck, before the countryside was aware
+that a wreck had occurred, then it was certainly no very random
+conjecture that the wreck had been contrived in some fashion by those
+who profited by it. There were atrocious tales of murder of
+shipwrecked men circulating, but these were probably wholly, or at
+all events in part, untrue. If when a vessel ran upon the rocks she
+was deserted by her crew, if they took to the boats and made for
+shore, then there remained no impediment to the wreckers taking
+possession; it was only in the event of their finding a skipper on
+board to maintain right over the grounded vessel, or the mariners
+still on her engaged in getting her off, that any temptation to
+violence could arise. But it was improbable that a crew would cling to
+a ship on such a coast when once she was on the breakers. It was a
+moral certainty that they would desert her, and leave the wreck to be
+pillaged by the rats from shore, without offer of resistance. The
+character of the coast-wreckers was known to seamen, or rather a
+legend full of horror circulated relative to their remorseless
+savagery. The fear of wreckers added to the fear of the sea would
+combine to drive a crew, to the last man, into the boats.
+Consequently, though it is possible that in some cases murder of
+castaway men may have occurred, such cases must have been most
+exceptional. The wreckers were only too glad to build a golden bridge
+by which the wrecked might escape. Morally, without a question, those
+who lured a hapless merchantman upon the rocks were guilty of the
+deaths of those sailors who were upset in their boats in escaping from
+the vessel, or were dashed against the cliffs in their attempts to
+land, but there was no direct blood-guiltiness felt in such cases; and
+those who had reaped a harvest from the sea counted their gains
+individually, and made no estimate of the misery accruing thereby to
+others.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+HOP-O'-MY-THUMB.
+
+
+"Listen to me," said Judith.
+
+"Yes, Ju!"
+
+The orphans were together in the room that had been their father's,
+the room in which for some days he had lain with the blinds down, the
+atmosphere heavy with the perfume of flowers, and that indescribable,
+unmistakable scent of death. Often, every day, almost every hour, had
+Judith stolen into the room while he lay there, to wonder with
+infinite reverence and admiration at the purity and dignity of the
+dead face. It was that of the dear, dear father, but sublimed beyond
+her imagination. All the old vacillation was gone, the expression of
+distress and discouragement had passed away, and in their place had
+come a fixity and a calm, such as one sees in the busts of the ancient
+Roman Caesars, but with a superadded ethereality, if such a word can be
+used, that a piece of pagan statuary never reached. Marvellous, past
+finding out, it is that death, which takes from man the spiritual
+element, should give to the mere clay a look of angelic spirituality,
+yet so it is--so it was with the dead Peter Trevisa; and Judith, with
+eyes filling as fast as dried, stood, her hands folded, looking into
+his face, felt that she had never loved, never admired him half enough
+when he was alive. Life had been the simmer in which all the scum of
+trivialities, of infirmities, of sordidness had come to and shown
+itself on the surface. Now Death had cleared these all away, and in
+the peaceful face of the dead was seen the _real_ man, the nobility,
+sanctity, delicacy that formed the texture of his soul, and which had
+impressed the very clay wrapped about that volatile essence.
+
+As long as the dear father's body lay in the house Judith had not
+realized her utter desolation. But now the funeral was over, and she
+had returned with her brother to the parsonage, to draw up the
+blinds, and let the light once more enter, and search out, and
+revivify the dead rooms.
+
+She was very pale, with reddened eyes, and looking more fragile and
+transparent than ever she did before, worn and exhausted by tearful,
+wakeful nights, and by days of alternating gusts of sorrow and busy
+preparation for the funeral, of painful recollections of joyous days
+that were past, and of doubtful searchings into a future that was full
+of cloud.
+
+Her black frock served to enhance her pallor, and to make her look
+thinner, smaller than when in white or in color.
+
+She had taken her place in her father's high-backed leather chair,
+studded thick with brass nails, the leather dulled and fretted by
+constant use, but the nail-heads burnished by the same treatment.
+
+Her brother was in the same chair with her; both his arms were round
+her neck, and his head was on her shoulder. She had her right arm
+about his waist, her left was bowed, the elbow leaning on the chair
+arm, her hand folded inward, and her weary head rested on its back.
+
+The fine weather broken in upon by the gale had returned; the sun
+shone in unhindered at the window, and blazed on the children's hair;
+the brass nails, polished by friction, twinkled as little suns, but
+were naught in lustre to the gorgeous red of the hair of the twins,
+for the first were but brass, and the other of living gold.
+
+Two more lonely beings could hardly be discovered on the face of the
+earth--at all events in the peninsula of Cornwall--but the sense of
+this loneliness was summed in the heart of Judith, and was there
+articulate; Jamie was but dimly conscious of discomfort and
+bereavement. She knew what her father's death entailed on her, or knew
+in part, and conjectured more. Had she been left absolutely alone in
+the world her condition would have been less difficult than it was
+actually, encumbered with her helpless brother. Swimming alone in the
+tossing sea, she might have struck out with confidence that she could
+keep her head above water, but it was quite otherwise when clinging to
+her was a poor, half-witted boy, incapable of doing anything to save
+himself, and all whose movements tended only to embarrass her. Not
+that she regretted for an instant having to care for Jamie, for she
+loved him with sisterly and motherly love combined, intensified in
+force by fusion; if to her a future seemed inconceivable without
+Jamie, a future without him would be one without ambition, pleasure,
+or interest.
+
+The twin brother was very like her, with the same beautiful and
+abundant hair, delicate in build, and with the same refined face, but
+without the flashes of alternating mood that lightened and darkened
+her face. His had a searching, bewildered, distressed expression on
+it--the only expression it ever bore except when he was out of temper,
+and then it mirrored on its surface his inward ill-humor. His was an
+appealing face, a face that told of a spirit infantile, innocent, and
+ignorant, that would never grow stronger, but which could deteriorate
+by loss of innocence--the only charge of which it was capable. The boy
+had no inherent naughtiness in him, but was constantly falling into
+mischief through thoughtlessness, and he was difficult to manage
+because incapable of reasoning.
+
+What every one saw--that he never would be other than what he
+was--Judith would not admit. She acknowledged his inaptitude at his
+books, his frivolity, his restlessness, but believed that these were
+infirmities to be overcome, and that when overcome the boy would be as
+other boys are.
+
+Now these children--they were aged eighteen, but Jamie looked four
+years younger--sat in their father's chair, clinging to each other,
+all in all to one another, for they had no one else to love and who
+loved them.
+
+"Listen to me, Jamie."
+
+"Yes, Ju, I be----"
+
+"Don't say 'I be'--say 'I am.'"
+
+"Yes, Ju."
+
+"Jamie, dear!" she drew her arm tighter about him; her heart was
+bounding, and every beat caused her pain. "Jamie, dear, you know that,
+now dear papa is gone, and you will never see him in this world again,
+that----"
+
+"Yes, Ju."
+
+"That I have to look to you, my brother, to stand up for me like a
+man, to think and do for me as well as for yourself--a brave, stout,
+industrious fellow."
+
+"Yes, Ju."
+
+"I am a girl, and you will soon be a man, and must work for both of
+us. You must earn the money, and I will spend it frugally as we both
+require it. Then we shall be happy again, and dear papa in Paradise
+will be glad and smile on us. You will make an effort, will you not,
+Jamie? Hitherto you have been able to run about and play and squander
+your time, but now serious days have come upon us, and you must fix
+your mind on work and determine--Jamie--mind, screw your heart to a
+strong determination to put away childish things and be a man, and a
+strength and a comfort to me."
+
+He put up his lips to kiss her cheek, but could not reach it, as her
+head was leaning on her hand away from him.
+
+"What are you fidgeting at, my dear?" she asked, without stirring,
+feeling his body restless under her arm.
+
+"A nail is coming out," he answered.
+
+It was so; whilst she had been speaking to him he was working at one
+of the brass studs, and had loosened its bite in the chair.
+
+"Oh, Jamie! you are making work by thus drawing out a nail. Can you
+not help me a little, and reduce the amount one has to think of and
+do? You have not been attending to what I said, and I was so much in
+earnest." She spoke in a tone of discouragement, and the tone, more
+than the words, impressed the susceptible heart of the boy. He began
+to cry.
+
+"You are cross."
+
+"I am not cross, my pet; I am never cross with you, I love you too
+dearly; but you try my patience sometimes, and just now I am
+overstrained--and then I did want to make you understand."
+
+"Now papa's dead I'll do no more lessons, shall I?" asked Jamie,
+coaxingly.
+
+"You must, indeed, and with me instead of papa."
+
+"Not _rosa_, _rosae_?"
+
+"Yes, _rosa_, _rosae_."
+
+Then he sulked.
+
+"I don't love you a bit. It is not fair. Papa is dead, so I ought not
+to have any more lessons. I hate _rosa_, _rosae_!" He kicked the legs
+of the chair peevishly with his heels. As his sister said nothing,
+seemed to be inattentive--for she was weary and dispirited--he slapped
+her cheek by raising his hand over his head.
+
+"What, Jamie, strike me, your only friend?"
+
+Then he threw his arms round her again, and kissed her. "I'll love
+you; only, Ju, say I am not to do _rosa_, _rosae_!"
+
+"How long have you been working at the first declension in the Latin
+grammar, Jamie?"
+
+He tried for an instant to think, gave up the effort, laid his head on
+her shoulder, and said:
+
+"I don't know and don't care. Say I am not to do _rosa_, _rosae_!"
+
+"What! not if papa wished it?"
+
+"I hate the Latin grammar!"
+
+For a while both remained silent. Judith felt the tension to which her
+mind and nerves had been subjected, and lapsed momentarily into a
+condition of something like unconsciousness, in which she was dimly
+sensible of a certain satisfaction rising out of the pause in thought
+and effort. The boy lay quiet, with his head on her shoulder, for a
+while, then withdrew his arms, folded his hands on his lap, and began
+to make a noise by compressing the air between the palms.
+
+"There's a finch out there going 'chink! chink!' and listen, Ju, I can
+make 'chink! chink!' too."
+
+Judith recovered herself from her distraction, and said:
+
+"Never mind the finch now. Think of what I say. We shall have to leave
+this house."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Of course we must, sooner or later, and the sooner the better. It is
+no more ours."
+
+"Yes, it is ours. I have my rabbits here."
+
+"Now that papa is dead it is no longer ours."
+
+"It's a wicked shame."
+
+"Not at all, Jamie. This house was given to papa for his life only;
+now it will go to a new rector, and Aunt Dunes[B] is going to fetch us
+away to another house."
+
+    [B] Dunes is the short for Dionysia.
+
+"When?"
+
+"To-day."
+
+"I won't go," said the boy. "I swear I won't."
+
+"Hush, hush, Jamie! Don't use such expressions. I do not know where
+you have picked them up. We must go."
+
+"And my rabbits, are they to go too?"
+
+"The rabbits? We'll see about them. Aunt----"
+
+"I hate Aunt Dunes!"
+
+"You really must not call her that; if she hears you she will be very
+angry. And consider, she has been taking a great deal of trouble about
+us."
+
+"I don't care."
+
+"My dear, she is dear papa's sister."
+
+"Why didn't papa get a nicer sister--like you?"
+
+"Because he had to take what God gave him."
+
+The boy pouted, and began to kick his heels against the chair-legs
+once more.
+
+"Jamie, we must leave this house to-day. Aunt is coming to take us
+both away."
+
+"I won't go."
+
+"But, Jamie, I am going, and the cook is going, and so is Jane."
+
+"Are cook and Jane coming with us?"
+
+"No, dear."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"We shall not want them. We cannot afford to keep them any more, to
+pay their wages; and then we shall not go into a house of our own. You
+must come with me, and be a joy and rest to me, dear Jamie."
+
+She turned her head over, and leaned it on his head. The sun glowed in
+their mingled hair--all of one tinge and lustre. It sparkled in the
+tears on her cheek.
+
+"Ju, may I have these buttons?"
+
+"What buttons?"
+
+"Look!"
+
+He shook himself free from his sister, slid his feet to the ground,
+went to a bureau, and brought to his sister a large open basket that
+had been standing on the top of the bureau. It had been turned out of
+a closet by Aunt Dionysia, and contained an accumulation of those most
+profitless of collected remnants--odd buttons, coat buttons, brass,
+smoked mother-of-pearl, shirt buttons, steel clasps--buttons of all
+kinds, the gathering together made during twenty-five years. Why the
+basket, after having been turned out of a lumber closet, had been left
+in the room of death, or why, if turned out elsewhere, it had been
+brought there, is more than even the novelist can tell. Suffice it
+that there it was, and by whom put there could not be said.
+
+"Oh! what a store of pretty buttons!" exclaimed the boy. "Do look,
+Ju, these great big ones are just like those on Cheap Jack's red
+waistcoat. Here is a brass one with a horse on it. Do see! Oh, Ju,
+please get your needle and thread and sew this one on to my black
+dress."
+
+Judith sighed. It was in vain for her to impress the realities of the
+situation on his wandering mind.
+
+"Hark!" she exclaimed. "There is Aunt Dunes. I hear her voice--how
+loud she speaks! She has come to fetch us away."
+
+"Where is she going to take us to?"
+
+"I do not know, Jamie."
+
+"She will take us into the forest and lose us, like as did
+Hop-o'-my-Thumb's father."
+
+"There are no forests here--hardly any trees."
+
+"She will leave us in the forest and run away."
+
+"Nonsense, Jamie!"
+
+"I am sure she will. She doesn't like us. She wants to get rid of us.
+I don't care. May I have the basket of buttons?"
+
+"Yes, Jamie."
+
+"Then I'll be Hop-o'-my-Thumb."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE BUTTONS.
+
+
+It was as Judith surmised. Mrs. Dionysia Trevisa had come to remove
+her nephew and niece from the rectory. She was a woman decided in
+character, especially in all that concerned her interests. She had
+made up her mind that the children could not be left unprotected in
+the parsonage, and she could not be with them. Therefore they must go.
+The servants must leave; they would be paid their month's wage, but by
+dismissing them their keep would be economized. There was a factotum
+living in a cottage near, who did the gardening, the cinder-sifting,
+and boot-cleaning for the rectory inmates, he would look after the
+empty house, and wait on in hopes of being engaged to garden, sift
+cinders, and clean boots for the new rector.
+
+As it was settled that the children must leave the house, the next
+thing to consider was where they were to be placed. The aunt could not
+take them to Pentyre Glaze; that was not to be thought of. They must
+be disposed of in some other way.
+
+Mrs. Trevisa had determined on a sale of her brother's effects: his
+furniture, bedding, curtains, carpets, books, plate, and old sermons.
+She was anxious to realize as soon as possible, so as to know for
+certain what she could calculate upon as being left her for the
+support of Judith and her brother. To herself the rector had left only
+a ring and five guineas. She had not expected more. His decease was
+not likely to be a benefit, but, on the contrary, an embarrassment to
+her. He had left about a thousand pounds, but then Mrs. Trevisa did
+not yet know how large a bite out of this thousand pounds would be
+taken by the dilapidations on rectory, glebe, and chancel. The chancel
+of the church was in that condition that it afforded a wide margin for
+the adjudication of dilapidations. They might be set down at ten
+shillings or a thousand pounds, and no one could say which was the
+fairest sum, as the chancel was deep in sand and invisible. The
+imagination of the valuer might declare it to be sound or to be
+rotten, and till dug out no one could impeach his judgment.
+
+In those days, when an incumbent died, the widow and orphans of the
+deceased appointed a valuer, and the incoming rector nominated his
+valuer, and these two cormorants looked each other in the eyes--said
+to each other, "Brother, what pickings?" And as less resistance to
+being lacerated and cleaned to the bone was to be anticipated from
+a broken-hearted widow and helpless children than from a robust,
+red-faced rector, the cormorants contrived to rob the widow and the
+fatherless. Then that cormorant who had been paid to look after the
+interest of the widow and children and had not done it said to the
+other cormorant, "Brother, I've done you a turn this time; do me the
+like when the chance falls to you." Now, although nominally the money
+picked off the sufferers was to go to the account of the incomer, it
+was not allowed to pass till the cormorants had taken toll of it.
+Moreover, these cormorants were architects, builders, solicitors, or
+contractors of some sort, and looked to get something further out of
+the incoming man they favored, whereas they knew they could get
+nothing at all out of the departed man who was buried. Now we have
+pretended to change all this; let us persuade ourselves we have made
+the conduct of these matters more honest and just.
+
+Aunt Dionysia did not know by experience what valuers for
+dilapidations were, but she had always heard that valuation for
+dilapidations materially diminished the property of a deceased
+incumbent. She was consequently uneasy, and anxious to know the worst,
+and make the best of the circumstances that she could. She saw clearly
+enough that the sum that would remain when debts and valuation were
+paid would be insufficient to support the orphans, and she saw also
+with painful clearness that there would be a necessity for her to
+supplement their reduced income from her own earnings. This conviction
+did not sweeten her temper and increase the cordiality with which she
+treated her nephew and niece.
+
+"Now, hoity-toity!" said Aunt Dionysia; "I'm not one of your mewlers
+and pewkers. I have my work to do, and can't afford to waste time in
+the luxury of tears. You children shall come with me. I will see you
+settled in, and then Balhachet shall wheel over your boxes and
+whatever we want for the night. I have been away from my duties longer
+than I ought, and the maids are running wild, are after every one who
+comes near the place like horse-flies round the cattle on a sultry
+day. I will see you to your quarters, and then you must shift for
+yourselves. Balhachet can come and go between the rectory and Zachie
+Menaida as much as you want."
+
+"Are we going to Mr. Menaida's, aunt?" asked Judith.
+
+"Did I not say Zachie Menaida! If I said Zachie Menaida I suppose I
+meant what I said, or are you hard of hearing? Come--time to _me_ is
+precious. Bustle--bustle--don't keep me waiting while you gape."
+
+After a while Mrs. Trevisa succeeded in getting her nephew and niece
+to start. Judith, indeed, was ready at the first suggestion to go with
+her aunt, glad to get over the pang of leaving the house as quickly as
+might be. It was to be the rupture of one thread of the tie that bound
+her to the past, but an important thread. She was to leave the house
+as a home, though she would return to it again and again to carry away
+from it such of her possessions as she required and could find a place
+for at Zachary Menaida's. But with Jamie it was otherwise. He had run
+away, and had to be sought, and when found coaxed and cajoled into
+following his aunt and sister.
+
+Judith had found him, for she knew his nooks and dens. He was seated
+in a laurel bush playing with the buttons.
+
+"Look, Ju! there is some broken mirror among the buttons. Stand still,
+and I will make the sun jump into your eyes. Open your mouth, and I
+will send him down your throat. Won't it be fun; I'll tease old Dunes
+with it."
+
+"Then come along with me."
+
+He obeyed.
+
+The distance to Zachary Menaida's cottage was about a mile and a
+quarter, partly through parish roads, partly through lanes, the way in
+parts walled and hedged up against the winds, in others completely
+exposed to every breath of air where it traversed a down.
+
+Judith walked forward with her aunt, and Jamie lagged. Occasionally
+his sister turned her head to reassure herself that he had not given
+them the slip; otherwise she attended as closely as she was able to
+the instructions and exhortations of her aunt. She and her brother
+were to be lodged temporarily at Uncle Zachie's, that is to say, with
+Mr. Menaida, an elderly, somewhat eccentric man, who occupied a double
+cottage at the little hamlet of Polzeath. No final arrangement as to
+the destination of the orphans could be made till Aunt Dunes knew the
+result of the sale, and how much remained to the children after the
+father's trifling debts had been paid, and the considerable slice had
+been cut out of it by the valuers for dilapidations. Mrs. Trevisa
+talked fast in her harsh tones, and in a loud voice, without
+undulation or softness in it, and expected her niece to hear and give
+account for everything she told her, goading her to attention with a
+sharp reminder when she deemed that her mind was relaxed, and whipping
+her thoughts together when she found them wandering. But, indeed, it
+was not possible to forget for one moment the presence and personality
+of Dionysia, though the subject of her discourse might be unnoticed.
+
+Every fibre of Judith's heart was strung and strained to the
+uttermost, to acutest feeling, and a sympathetic hand drawn across
+them would have produced a soft, thrilling, musical wail. Her bosom
+was so full to overflow that a single word of kindness, a look even
+that told of love, would have sufficed to make the child cast herself
+in a convulsion of grief into her aunt's arms, bury her face in her
+bosom, and weep out her pent-up tears. Then, after perhaps half an
+hour, she would have looked up through the rain into her aunt's face,
+and have smiled, and have loved that aunt passionately,
+self-sacrificingly, to her dying day. She was disposed to love
+her--for was not Dionysia the only relative she had; and was she not
+the very sister of that father who had been to her so much? But Mrs.
+Trevisa was not the woman to touch the taught cords with a light hand,
+or to speak or look in love. She was hard, angular, unsympathetic; and
+her manner, the intonations of her voice, her mode of address, the
+very movements of her body, acted on the strained nerves as a rasping
+file, that would fret till it had torn them through.
+
+Suddenly round a corner, where the narrow road turned, two hundred
+yards ahead, dashed a rider on a black steed, and Judith immediately
+recognized Coppinger on his famous mare Black Bess; a mare much talked
+of, named after the horse ridden by Dick Turpin. The recognition was
+mutual. He knew her instantly; with a jerk of the rein and a set of
+the brow he showed that he was not indifferent.
+
+Coppinger wore his slouched hat, tied under his chin and beard, a
+necessary precaution in that gale-swept country; on his feet to his
+knees were high boots. He wore a blue knitted jersey, and a red
+kerchief about his throat.
+
+Captain Cruel slightly slackened his pace, as the lane was narrow; and
+as he rode past his dark brow was knit, and his eyes flashed angrily
+at Judith. He deigned neither a glance nor a word to his housekeeper,
+who courtesied and assumed a fawning expression.
+
+When he had passed the two women he dug his spurs into Black Bess and
+muttered some words they did not hear.
+
+Judith, who had stood aside, now came forward into the midst of the
+roadway and rejoined her aunt, who began to say something, when her
+words and Judith's attention was arrested by shouts, oaths, and cries
+in their rear.
+
+Judith and her aunt turned to discover the occasion of this
+disturbance, and saw that Coppinger was off his horse, on his feet,
+dragging the brute by the rein, and was hurling his crop, or
+hunting-whip, as he pursued Jamie flying from him with cries of
+terror. But that he held the horse and could not keep up with the boy,
+Jamie would have suffered severely, for Coppinger was in a livid fury.
+
+Jamie flew to his sister.
+
+"Save me, Ju! he wants to kill me."
+
+"What have you done?"
+
+"It is only the buttons."
+
+"Buttons, dear?"
+
+But the boy was too frightened to explain.
+
+Then Judith drew her brother behind her, took from him the basket he
+was carrying, and stepped to encounter the angry man, who came on, now
+struggling with his horse, cursing Bess because she drew back, then
+plunging forward with his whip above his head brandished menacingly,
+and by this conduct further alarmed Black Bess.
+
+Judith met Coppinger, and he was forced to stay his forward course.
+
+"What has he done?" asked the girl. "Why do you threaten?"
+
+"The cursed idiot has strewn bits of glass and buttons along the
+road," answered the Captain, angrily. "Stand aside that I may lash
+him, and teach him to frighten horses and endanger men's lives."
+
+"I am sorry for what Jamie has done. I will pick up the things he has
+thrown down."
+
+Cruel Coppinger's eyes glistened with wrath. He gathered the lash of
+his whip into his palm along with the handle, and gripped them
+passionately.
+
+"Curse the fool! My Bess was frightened, dashed up the bank, and all
+but rolled over. Do you know he might have killed me?"
+
+"You must excuse him; he is a very child."
+
+"I will not excuse him. I will cut the flesh off his back if I catch
+him."
+
+He put the end of the crop handle into his mouth, and, putting his
+right hand behind him, gathered the reins up shorter and wound them
+more securely about his left hand.
+
+Judith walked backward, facing him, and he turned with his horse and
+went after her. She stooped and gathered up a splinter of glass. The
+sun striking through the gaps in the hedge had flashed on these scraps
+of broken mirror and of white bone, or burnished brass buttons, and
+the horse had been frightened at them. As Judith stooped and took up
+now a buckle, then a button, and then some other shining trifle, she
+hardly for an instant withdrew her eyes from Coppinger; they had in
+them the same dauntless defiance as when she encountered him on the
+stairs of the rectory. But now it was she who retreated, step by step,
+and he who advanced, and yet he could not flatter himself that he was
+repelling her. She maintained her strength and mastery unbroken as she
+retreated.
+
+"Why do you look at me so? Why do you walk backward?"
+
+"Because I mistrust you. I do not know what you might do were I not to
+confront you."
+
+"What I might do? What do you think I would do?"
+
+"I cannot tell. I mistrust you."
+
+"Do you think me capable of lashing at you with my crop?"
+
+"I think you capable of anything."
+
+"Flattering that!" he shouted, angrily.
+
+"You would have lashed at Jamie."
+
+"And why not? He might have killed me."
+
+"He might have killed you, but you should not have touched him--not
+have thought of touching him."
+
+"Indeed! Why not?"
+
+"Why not?" She raised herself upright and looked straight into his
+eyes, in which fire flickered, flared, then decayed, then flared
+again.
+
+"You are no Dane, or you would not have asked 'Why not?' twice. Nay,
+you would not have asked it once."
+
+"Not a Dane?" His beard and mustache were quivering, and he snorted
+with anger.
+
+"A Dane, I have read in history, is too noble and brave to threaten
+women and to strike children."
+
+He uttered an oath and ground his teeth.
+
+"No; a Dane would never have thought of asking why not?--why not lash
+a poor little silly boy?"
+
+"You insult me! You dare to do it?"
+
+Her blood was surging in her heart. As she looked into this man's dark
+and evil face she thought of all the distress he had caused her
+father, and a wave of loathing swept over her, nerved her to defy him
+to the uttermost, and to proclaim all the counts she had against him.
+
+"I dare do it," she said, "because you made my own dear papa's life
+full of bitterness and pain----"
+
+"I! I never touched him, hardly spoke to him. I don't care to have to
+do with parsons."
+
+"You made his life one of sorrow through your godless, lawless ways,
+leading his poor flock astray, and bidding them mock at his warnings
+and despise his teachings. Almost with his last breath he spoke of
+you, and the wretchedness of heart you had caused him. And then you
+dared--yes--you dared--you dared to burst into our house where he lay
+dead, with shameful insolence to disturb its peace. And now--" she
+gasped, "and now, ah! you lie when you say you are a Dane, and talk of
+cutting and lashing the dead father's little boy on his father's
+burial day. You are but one thing I can name--a coward!"
+
+Did he mean it? No! But blinded, stung to madness by her words,
+especially that last, he raised his right arm with the crop.
+
+Did she mean it? No! But in the instinct of self-preservation,
+thinking he was about to strike her, she dashed the basket of buttons
+in his face, and they flew right and left over him, against the head
+of Black Bess, a rain of fragments of mirror, brass, steel,
+mother-of-pearl, and bone.
+
+The effect was instantaneous. The mare plunged, reared, threw
+Coppinger backward from off his feet, dashed him to the ground,
+dragged him this way, that way, bounded, still drawing him about by
+the twisted reins, into the hedge, then back, with her hoofs upon him,
+near, if not on, his head, his chest--then, released by the snap of
+the rein, or through its becoming disengaged, Bess darted down the
+lane, was again brought to a standstill by the glittering fragments on
+the ground, turned, rushed back in the direction whence she had come,
+and disappeared.
+
+Judith stood panting, paralyzed with fear and dismay. Was he dead,
+broken to pieces, pounded by those strong hoofs?
+
+He was not dead. He was rolling himself on the ground, struggling
+clumsily to his knees.
+
+"Are you satisfied?" he shouted, glaring at her like a wild beast
+through his tangled black hair that had fallen over his face. "I
+cannot strike you nor your brother now. My arm and the Lord knows what
+other bones are broken. You have done that--and I owe you something
+for it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+UNCLE ZACHIE.
+
+
+The astonishment, the consternation of Mrs. Trevisa at what had
+occurred, which she could not fully comprehend, took from her the
+power to speak. She had seen her niece in conversation with Cruel
+Coppinger, and had caught snatches of what had passed between them.
+All his words had reached her, and some of Judith's. When, suddenly,
+she saw the girl dash the basket of buttons in the face of the
+Captain, saw him thrown to the ground, drawn about by his frantic
+horse, and left, as she thought, half dead, her dismay was unbounded.
+It might have been that Coppinger threatened Judith with his whip, but
+nothing could excuse her temerity in resisting him, in resisting him
+and protecting herself in the way she did. The consequences of that
+resistance she could not measure. Coppinger was bruised, bones were
+broken, and Aunt Dionysia knew the nature of the man too well not to
+expect his deadly animosity, and to feel sure of implacable revenge
+against the girl who had injured him--a revenge that would envelop all
+who belonged to her, and would therefore strike herself.
+
+The elderly spinster had naturally plenty of strength and hardness
+that would bear her through most shocks without discomposure, but such
+an incident as that which had just taken place before her eyes
+entirely unnerved and dismayed her.
+
+Coppinger was conveyed home by men called to the spot, and Mrs.
+Trevisa walked on with her niece and nephew in silence to the house of
+Mr. Zachary Menaida. Jamie had escaped over the hedge, to put a
+stone-and-earth barrier between himself and his assailant directly
+Judith interposed between him and Coppinger. Now that the latter was
+gone, he came, laughing, over the hedge again. To him what had
+occurred was fun.
+
+At Menaida's the aunt departed, leaving her nephew and niece with the
+old man, that she might hurry to Pentyre Glaze and provide what was
+needed for Coppinger. She took no leave of Judith. In the haze of
+apprehension that enveloped her mind glowed anger against the girl for
+having increased her difficulties and jeopardized her position with
+Coppinger.
+
+Mr. Zachary Menaida was an old man, or rather a man who had passed
+middle age, with grizzled hair that stood up above his brow,
+projecting like the beak of a ship or the horn of an unicorn. He had a
+big nose inclined to redness, and kindly, watery eyes, was close
+shaven, and had lips that, whenever he was in perplexity, or worried
+with work or thought, he thrust forward and curled. He was a
+middle-statured man, inclined to stoop.
+
+Uncle Zachie, as he was commonly called behind his back, was a
+gentleman by birth. In the Roman Catholic Church there is a religious
+order called that of Minims. In England we have, perhaps, the most
+widely-diffused of orders, not confined to religion--it is that of
+Crotchets. To this order Mr. Menaida certainly belonged. He was made
+up of hobbies and prejudices that might bore, but never hurt others.
+
+Probably the most difficult achievement one can conceive for a man to
+execute is to stand in his own light; yet Mr. Menaida had succeeded in
+doing this all through his life. In the first place, he had been bred
+up for the law, but had never applied himself to the duties of the
+profession to which he had been articled. As he had manifested as a
+boy a love of music, his mother and sister had endeavored to make him
+learn to play on an instrument; but, because so urged, he had refused
+to qualify himself to play on pianoforte, violin, or flute, till his
+fingers had stiffened, whereupon he set to work zealously to practise,
+when it was no longer possible for him to acquire even tolerable
+proficiency.
+
+As he had been set by his father to work on skins of parchment, he
+turned his mind to skins of another sort, and became an eager
+naturalist and taxidermist.
+
+That he had genius, or rather a few scattered sparks of talent in his
+muddled brain, was certain. Every one who knew him said he was clever,
+but pitied his inability to turn his cleverness to purpose. But one
+must take into consideration, before accepting the general verdict
+that he was clever, the intellectual abilities of those who formed
+this judgment. When we do this, we doubt much whether their opinion is
+worth much. Mr. Menaida was not clever. He had flashes of wit, no
+steady light of understanding. Above all, he had no application, a
+little of which might have made him a useful member of society.
+
+When his articleship was over he set up as a solicitor, but what
+business was offered him he neglected or mismanaged, till business
+ceased to be offered. He would have starved had not a small annuity of
+fifty pounds been left him to keep the wolf from the door, and that he
+was able to supplement this small income with money made by the sale
+of his stuffed specimens of sea-fowl. Taxidermy was the only art in
+which he was able to do anything profitable. He loved to observe the
+birds, to wander on the cliffs listening to their cries, watching
+their flight, their positions when at rest, the undulations in their
+feathers under the movement of the muscles as they turned their heads
+or raised their feet; and when he set himself to stuff the skins he
+was able to imitate the postures and appearance of living birds with
+rare fidelity. Consequently his specimens were in request, and
+ornithologists and country gentlemen whose game-keepers had shot rare
+birds desired to have the skins dealt with, and set in cases, by the
+dexterous fingers of Mr. Zachary Menaida. He might have done more work
+of the same kind, but that his ingrained inactivity and distaste for
+work limited his output. In certain cases Mr. Menaida would not do
+what was desired of him till coaxed and flattered, and then he did it
+grumblingly and with sighs at being subjected to killing toil.
+
+Mr. Menaida was a widower; his married life had not been long; he had
+been left with a son, now grown to manhood, who was no longer at home.
+He was abroad, in Portugal, in the service of a Bristol merchant, an
+importer of wines.
+
+As already said, Uncle Zachie did not begin the drudgery of music till
+it was too late for him to acquire skill on any instrument. His
+passion for music grew with his inability to give himself pleasure
+from it. He occupied a double cottage at Polzeath, and a hole knocked
+through the wall that had separated the lower rooms enabled him to
+keep his piano in one room and his bird-stuffing apparatus in the
+other, and to run from one to the other in his favorite desultory way,
+that never permitted him to stick to one thing at a time.
+
+Into this house Judith and her brother were introduced. Mr. Menaida
+had been attached to the late rector, the only other gentleman in
+culture, as in birth, that lived in the place, and when he was told by
+Miss--or, as she was usually called, Mrs.--Trevisa that the children
+must leave the parsonage and be put temporarily with some one
+suitable, and that no other suitable house was available, he consented
+without making much objection to receive them into his cottage. He was
+a kindly man, gentle at heart, and he was touched at the bereavement
+of the children whom he had known since they were infants.
+
+After the first salutation Mr. Menaida led Judith and the boy into his
+parlor, the room opening out of his workshop.
+
+"Look here," said he, "what is that?" He pointed to his piano.
+
+"A piano, sir," answered Judith.
+
+"Yes--and mind you, I hate strumming, though I love music. When I am
+in, engaged at my labors, no strumming. I come in here now and then as
+relaxation, and run over this and that; then, refreshed, go back to my
+work, but, if there is any strumming, I shall be put out. I shall run
+my knife or needle into my hand, and it will upset me for the day. You
+understand--no strumming. When I am out, then you may touch the keys,
+but only when I am out. You understand clearly? Say the words after
+me: 'I allow no strumming.'"
+
+Judith did as required. The same was exacted of Jamie. Then Mr.
+Menaida said--
+
+"Very well; now we shall have a dish of tea. I daresay you are tired.
+Dear me, you look so. Goodness bless me! indeed you do. What has tired
+you has been the trial you have gone through. Poor things, poor
+things! There, go to your rooms; my maid, Jump, will show you where
+they are, and I will see about making tea. It will do you good. You
+want it. I see it."
+
+The kind-hearted man ran about.
+
+"Bless my soul! where have I put the key of the caddy? And--really--my
+fingers are all over arsenical soap. I think I will leave Jump to make
+the tea. Jump, have you seen where I put the key? Bless my soul!
+where did I have it last? Never mind; I will break open the caddy."
+
+"Please, Mr. Menaida, do not do that for us. We can very well wait
+till the key is found."
+
+"Oh! I don't know when that will be. I shall have forgotten about it
+if I do not find the key at once, or break open the caddy. But, if you
+prefer it, I have some cherry-brandy, or I would give you some
+milk-punch."
+
+"No--no, indeed, Mr. Menaida."
+
+"But Jamie--I am sure he looks tired. A little cherry-brandy to draw
+the threads in him together. And suffer me, though not a doctor, to
+recommend it to you. Bless my soul! my fingers are all over arsenical
+soap. If I don't have some cherry-brandy myself I shall have the
+arsenic get into my system. I hope you have no cuts or scratches on
+your hand. I forgot the arsenic when I shook hands with you. Now, look
+here, Jump, bring in the saffron cake, and I will cut them each a good
+hunch. It will do you good, on my word it will. I have not spared
+either figs or saffron, and then--I will help you, as I love you. Come
+and see my birds. That is a cormorant--a splendid fellow--looks as if
+run out of metal, all his plumage, you know, and in the attitude as if
+swallowing a fish. Do you see!--the morsel is going down his throat.
+And--how much luggage have you? Jump! show the young lady where she
+can put away her gowns and all that sort of thing. Oh, not come yet?
+All right--a lady and her dresses are not long parted. They will be
+here soon. Now, then. What will you have?--some cold beef--and cider?
+Upon my soul!--you must excuse me. I was just wiring that kittiwake.
+Excuse me--I shall be ready in a moment. In the meantime there are
+books--Rollin's 'Ancient History,' a very reliable book. No--upon my
+word, my mind is distracted. I cannot get that kittiwake right without
+a glass of port. I have some good port. Oliver guarantees it--from
+Portugal, you know. He is there--first-rate business, and will make
+his fortune, which is more than his father ever did."
+
+Mr. Menaida went to a closet, and produced a bottle.
+
+"Come here, Jamie. I know what is good for you."
+
+"No--please, Mr. Menaida, do not. He has not been accustomed to
+anything of the sort. Please not, sir."
+
+"Fudge!" said Uncle Zachie, holding up a glass and pouring
+cherry-brandy into it. "What is your age?--seventeen or eighteen, and
+I am fifty-two. I have over thirty years' more experience of the world
+than you. Jamie, don't be tied to your sister's apron-string. I know
+what is best for you. Girls drink water, men something better. Come
+here, Jamie!"
+
+"No, sir--I beseech you."
+
+"Bless my soul! I know what is good for him. Come to me, Jamie. Look
+the other way, Judith, if I cannot persuade you."
+
+Judith sighed, and covered her face with her hands. There was to be no
+help, no support in Uncle Zachie. On the contrary, he would break down
+her power over Jamie.
+
+"Jamie," she said, "if you love me, go up-stairs."
+
+"Presently, Ju. I want that first." And he took it, ran to his sister,
+and said:
+
+"It is good, Ju!"
+
+"You have disobeyed me, Jamie--that is bad."
+
+She stood on the threshold of further trouble, and she knew it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A VISIT.
+
+
+No sleep visited Judith's eyes that night till the first streaks of
+dawn appeared, though she was weary, and her frail body and
+over-exerted brain needed the refreshment of sleep. But sleep she
+could not, for cares were gathering upon her.
+
+She had often heard her father, when speaking of Mr. Menaida, lament
+that he was not a little more self-controlled in his drinking. It was
+not that the old fellow ever became inebriated, but that he hankered
+after the bottle, and was wont to take a nip continually to strengthen
+his nerves, steady his hand, or clear his brain. There was ever ready
+some excuse satisfactory to his own conscience; and it was due to
+these incessant applications to the bottle that his hand shook, his
+eyes became watery, and his nose red. It was a danger Judith must
+guard against, lest this trick should be picked up by the childish
+Jamie, always apt to imitate what he should not, and acquire habits
+easily gained, hardly broken, that were harmful to himself. Uncle
+Zachie, in his good-nature, would lead the boy after him into the same
+habits that marred his own life.
+
+This was one thought that worked like a mole all night in Judith's
+brain; but she had other troubles as well to keep her awake. She was
+alarmed at the consequences of her conduct in the lane. She wondered
+whether Coppinger were more seriously hurt than had at first appeared.
+She asked herself whether she had not acted wrongly when she acted
+inconsiderately, whether in her precipitation to protect herself she
+had not misjudged Coppinger, whether, if he had attempted to strike
+her, it would not have been a lesser evil to receive the blow, than to
+ward it off in such a manner as to break his bones. Knowing by report
+the character of the man, she feared that she had incurred his deadly
+animosity. He could not, that she could see, hurt herself in the
+execution of his resentment, but he might turn her aunt out of his
+house. That she had affronted her aunt she was aware; Mrs. Trevisa's
+manner in parting with her had shown that with sufficient plainness.
+
+A strange jumble of sounds on the piano startled Judith. Her first
+thought and fear were that her brother had gone to the instrument, and
+was amusing himself on the keys. But on listening attentively she was
+aware that there was sufficient sequence in the notes to make it
+certain that the performer was a musician, though lacking in facility
+of execution. She descended the stairs and entered the little
+sitting-room. Uncle Zachie was seated on the music-stool, and was
+endeavoring to play a sonata of Beethoven that was vastly beyond the
+capacity of his stiff-jointed fingers. Whenever he made a false note
+he uttered a little grunt and screwed up his eyes, endeavored to play
+the bar again, and perhaps accomplish it only to break down in the
+next.
+
+Judith did not venture to interrupt him. She took up some knitting,
+and seated herself near the piano, where he might see her without her
+disturbing him. He raised his brows, grunted, floundered into false
+harmony, and exclaimed, "Bless me! how badly they do print music
+nowadays. Who, without the miraculous powers of a prophet, could tell
+that B should be natural?" Then, turning his head over his shoulder,
+addressed Judith, "Good-morning, missie. Are you fond of music?"
+
+"Yes, sir, very."
+
+"So you think. Everyone says he or she is fond of music, because that
+person can hammer out a psalm tune or play the 'Rogue's March.' I hate
+to hear those who call themselves musical strum on a piano. They can't
+feel, they only execute."
+
+"But they can play their notes correctly," said Judith, and then
+flushed with vexation at having made this pointed and cutting remark.
+But it did not cause Mr. Menaida to wince.
+
+"What of that? I give not a thank-you for mere literal music-reading.
+Call Jump, set 'Shakespeare' before her, and she will hammer out a
+scene--correctly as to words; but where is the sense? Where the life?
+You must play with the spirit and play with the understanding also,
+as you must read with the spirit and read with the understanding also.
+It is the same thing with bird-stuffing. Any fool can ram tow into a
+skin and thrust wires into the neck, but what is the result? You must
+stuff birds with the spirit and stuff with the understanding also--or
+it is naught."
+
+"I suppose it is the same with everything one does--one must do it
+heartily and intelligently."
+
+"Exactly! Now you should see my boy, Oliver. Have you ever met him?"
+
+"I think I have; but, to be truthful, I do not recollect him, sir."
+
+"I will bring you his likeness--in miniature. It is in the next room."
+Up jumped Mr. Menaida, and ran through the opening in the wall, and
+returned in another moment with the portrait, and gave it into
+Judith's hands.
+
+"A fine fellow is Oliver! Look at his nose how straight it is. Not
+like mine--that is a pump-handle. He got his good looks from his
+mother, not from me. Ah!" He reseated himself at the piano, and
+ran--incorrectly--over a scale. "It is all the pleasure I have in
+life, to think of my boy, and to look at his picture, and read his
+letters, and drink the port he sends me--first-rate stuff. He writes
+admirable letters, and never a month passes but I receive one. It
+would come expensive if he wrote direct, so his letter is enclosed in
+the business papers sent to the house at Bristol, and they forward it
+to me. You shall read his last--out loud. It will give me a pleasure
+to hear it read by you."
+
+"If I read properly, Mr. Menaida--with the spirit and with the
+understanding."
+
+"Exactly! But you could not fail to do that looking at the cheerful
+face in the miniature, and reading his words--pleasant and bright as
+himself. Pity you have not seen him; well, that makes something to
+live for. He has dark hair and blue eyes--not often met together, and
+when associated, very refreshing. Wait! I'll go after the letter:
+only, bless my soul! where is it? What coat did I have on when I read
+it? I'll call Jump. She may remember. Wait! do you recall this?"
+
+He stumbled over something on the keys which might have been anything.
+
+"It is Haydn. I will tell you what I think: Mozart I delight in as a
+companion; Beethoven I revere as a master; but Haydn I love as a
+friend. You were about to say something?"
+
+Judith had set an elbow on the piano and put her hand to her head, her
+fingers through the hair, and was looking into Uncle Zachie's face
+with an earnestness he could not mistake. She did desire to say
+something to him; but if she waited till he gave her an opportunity
+she might wait a long time. He jumped from one subject to another with
+alacrity, and with rapid forgetfulness of what he was last speaking
+about.
+
+"Oh, sir, I am so very, very grateful to you for having received us
+into your snug little house----"
+
+"You like it? Well, I only pay seven pounds for it. Cheap, is it not?
+Two cottages--laborers' cottages--thrown together. Well, I might go
+farther and fare worse."
+
+"And, Mr. Menaida, I venture to ask you another favor, which, if you
+will grant me, you will lay me under an eternal obligation."
+
+"You may command me, my dear."
+
+"It is only this: not to let Jamie have anything stronger than a glass
+of cider. I do not mind his having that; but a boy like him does not
+need what is, no doubt, wanted by you who are getting old. I am so
+afraid of the habit growing on him of looking for and liking what is
+too strong for him. He is such a child, so easily led, and so unable
+to control himself. It may be a fancy, a prejudice of mine"--she
+passed her nervous hand over her face--"I do hope I am not offending
+you, dear Mr. Menaida; but I know Jamie so well, and I know how
+carefully he must be watched and checked. If it be a silly fancy of
+mine--and perhaps it is only a silly fancy--yet," she put on a
+pleading tone, "you will humor me in this, will you not, Mr. Menaida?"
+
+"Bless my soul! you have only to express a wish and I will fulfil it.
+For myself, you must know, I am a little weak; I feel a chill when the
+wind turns north or east, and am always relaxed when it is in the
+south or west; that forces me to take something just to save me from
+serious inconvenience, you understand."
+
+"Oh quite, sir."
+
+"And then--confound it!--I am goaded on to work when disinclined. Why,
+there's a letter come to me now from Plymouth--a naturalist there,
+asking for more birds; and what can I do? I slave, I am at it all day,
+half the night; I have no time to eat or sleep. I was not born to
+stuff birds. I take it as an amusement, a pastime, and it is converted
+into a toil. I must brace up my exhausted frame; it is necessary to my
+health, you understand!"
+
+"Oh, yes, Mr. Menaida. And you really will humor my childish whim?"
+
+"Certainly, you may rely on me."
+
+"That is one thing I wanted to say. You see, sir, we have but just
+come into your house, and already, last night, Jamie was tempted to
+disobey me, and take what I thought unadvisable, so--I have been
+turning it over and over in my head--I thought I would like to come to
+a clear understanding with you, Mr. Menaida. It seems ungracious in
+me, but you must pity me. I have now all responsibility for Jamie on
+my head, and I have to do what my conscience tells me I should do;
+only, I pray you, do not take offence at what I have said."
+
+"Fudge! my dear; you are right, I dare say."
+
+"And now that I have your promise--I have that, have I not?"
+
+"Yes, certainly."
+
+"Now I want your opinion, if you will kindly give it me. I have no
+father, no mother, to go to for advice; and so I venture to appeal to
+you--it is about Captain Coppinger."
+
+"Captain Coppinger!" repeated Uncle Zachie, screwing up his brows and
+mouth. "Umph! He is a bold man who can give help against Captain
+Coppinger, and a strong man as well as bold. How has he wronged you?"
+
+"Oh! he has not wronged me. It is I who have hurt him."
+
+"You--you!" Uncle Zachie laughed. "A little creature such as you could
+not hurt Captain Cruel!"
+
+"But, indeed, I have; I have thrown him down and broken his arms and
+some of his bones."
+
+"You--you?" Uncle Zachie's face of astonishment and dismay was so
+comical that Judith, in spite of her anxiety and exhaustion, smiled;
+but the smile was without brightness.
+
+"And pray, how in the name of wonder did you do that? Upon my word,
+you will deserve the thanks of the Preventive men. They have no love
+for him; they have old scores they would gladly wipe off with a broken
+arm, or, better still, a cracked skull. And pray how did you do this?
+With the flour-roller?"
+
+"No, sir, I will tell you the whole story."
+
+Then, in its true sequence, with great clearness, she related the
+entire narrative of events. She told how her father, even with his
+last breath, had spoken of Coppinger as the man who had troubled his
+life by marring his work; how that the Captain had entered the
+parsonage without ceremony when her dear father was lying dead
+up-stairs, and how he had called there boisterously for Aunt Dionysia
+because he wanted something of her. She told the old man how that her
+own feelings had been wrought, by this affront, into anger against
+Coppinger. Then she related the incident in the lane, and how that,
+when he raised his arm against her, she had dashed the buttons into
+his face, frightened his horse, and so produced an accident that might
+have cost the Captain his life.
+
+"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "and what do you want? Is it
+an assault? I will run to my law-books and find out; I don't know that
+it can quite be made out a case of misadventure."
+
+"It is not that, sir."
+
+"Then what do you want?"
+
+"I have been racking my head to think what I ought to do under the
+circumstances. There can be no doubt that I aggravated him. I was very
+angry, both because he had been a trouble to my darling papa, and then
+because he had been so insolent as to enter our house and shout for
+Aunt Dunes; but there was something more--he had tried to beat Jamie,
+and it was my father's day of burial. All that roused a bad spirit in
+me, and I did say very bad words to him--words a man of metal would
+not bear from even a child, and I suppose I really did lash him to
+madness, and he would have struck me--but perhaps not, he might have
+thought better of it. I provoked him, and then I brought about what
+happened. I have been considering what I ought to do. If I remain here
+and take no notice, then he will think me very unfeeling, and that I
+do not care that I have hurt him in mind and body. It came into my
+head last night that I would ask aunt to apologize to him for what I
+had done, or, better still, should aunt not come here to-day, which is
+very likely, that I might walk with Jamie to Pentyre and inquire how
+Captain Coppinger is, and send in word by my aunt that I am
+sorry--very sorry."
+
+"Upon my soul, I don't know what to say. I could not have done this to
+Coppinger myself for a good deal of money. I think if I had, I would
+get out of the place as quickly as possible, while he was crippled by
+his broken bones. But then, you are a girl, and he may take it better
+from you than from me. Well--yes; I think it would be advisable to
+allay his anger if you can. Upon my word, you have put yourself into a
+difficult position. I'll go and look at my law-books, just for my own
+satisfaction."
+
+A heavy blow on the door, and without waiting for a response and
+invitation to enter, it was thrown open, and there entered Cruel
+Coppinger, his arm bandaged, tied in splints, and bound to his body,
+with his heavy walking-stick brandished by the uninjured hand. He
+stood for a moment glowering in, searching the room with his keen eyes
+till they rested on Judith. Then he made an attempt to raise his hand
+to his head, but ineffectually.
+
+"Curse it!" said he, "I cannot do it; don't tear it off my head with
+your eyes, girl. Here, you Menaida, come here and take my hat off.
+Come instantly, or she--she will do--the devil knows what she will not
+do to me."
+
+He turned, and with his stick beat the door back, that it slammed
+behind him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A PATCHED PEACE.
+
+
+"Look at her!" cried Coppinger, with his back against the house door,
+and pointing to Judith with his stick.
+
+She was standing near the piano, with one hand on it, and was half
+turned toward him. She was in black, but had a white kerchief about
+her neck. The absence of all color in her dress heightened the lustre
+of her abundant and glowing hair.
+
+Coppinger remained for a moment, pointing with a half sneer on his
+dark face. Mr. Menaida had nervously complied with his demand, and had
+removed the hat from the smuggler, and his dark hair fell about his
+face. That face was livid and pale; he had evidently suffered much,
+and now every movement was attended with pain. Not only had some of
+his bones been broken, but he was bruised and strained.
+
+"Look at her!" he shouted again, in his deep commanding tones, and he
+fixed his fierce eyes on her and knitted his brows. She remained
+immovable, awaiting what he had to say. Though there was a flutter in
+her bosom, her hand on the piano did not shake.
+
+"I am very sorry, Captain Coppinger," said Judith, in a low, sweet
+voice, in which there was but a slight tremulousness. "I profess that
+I believe I acted wrongly yesterday, and I repeat that I am
+sorry--very sorry, Captain Coppinger."
+
+He made no reply. He lowered the stick that had been pointed at her,
+and leaned on it. His hand shook because he was in pain.
+
+"I acted wrongly yesterday," continued Judith, "but I acted under
+provocation that, if it does not justify what I did, palliates the
+wrong. I can say no more--that is the exact truth."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"I am sorry for what was wrong in my conduct--frankly sorry that you
+are hurt."
+
+"You hear her?" laughed Coppinger, bitterly. "A little chit like that
+to speak to me thus"--then, turning sharply on her, "Are you not
+afraid?"
+
+"No, I am not afraid; why should I be?"
+
+"Why? Ask any one in S. Enodoc--any one in Cornwall--who has heard my
+name."
+
+"I beg your pardon. I do not want to ask any one else in S. Enodoc,
+any one else in Cornwall. I ask you."
+
+"Me? You ask me why you should be afraid of me?" He paused, drew his
+thick brows together till they formed a band across his forehead. "I
+tell you that none has ever wronged me by a blade of grass or a flock
+of wool but has paid for it a thousand-fold. And none has ever hurt me
+as you have done--none has ever dared to attempt it."
+
+"I have said that I am sorry."
+
+"You talk like one cold as a mermaid. I do not believe in your
+fearlessness. Why do you lean on the piano. There, touch the wires
+with the very tips of your fingers, and let me hear if they give a
+sound--and sound they will if you tremble."
+
+Judith exposed some of the wires by raising the top of the piano. Then
+she smiled, and stood with the tips of her delicate fingers just
+touching the chords. Coppinger listened, so did Uncle Zachie, and not
+a vibration could they detect.
+
+Presently she withdrew her hand, and said, "Is not that enough? When a
+girl says, 'I am sorry,' I supposed the chapter was done and the book
+closed."
+
+"You have strange ideas."
+
+"I have those in which I was brought up by the best of fathers."
+
+Coppinger thrust his stick along the floor.
+
+"Is it due to the ideas in which you have been brought up that you are
+not afraid--when you have reduced me to a wreck?"
+
+"And you?--are you afraid of the wreck that you have made?"
+
+The dark blood sprang into and suffused his whole face. Uncle Zachie
+drew back against the wall and made signs to Judith not to provoke
+their self-invited visitor; but she was looking steadily at the
+Captain, and did not observe the signals. In Coppinger's presence she
+felt nerved to stand on the defensive, and more, to attack. A threat
+in his whole bearing, in his manner of addressing her, roused every
+energy she possessed.
+
+"I tell you," said he, harshly, "if any man had used the word you
+threw at me yesterday, I would have murdered him; I would have split
+his skull with the handle of my crop."
+
+"You raised your hand to do it to me," said Judith.
+
+"No!" he exclaimed, violently. "It is false; come here, and let me see
+if you have the courage, the fearlessness you affect. You women are
+past-masters of dissembling. Come here; kneel before me and let me
+raise my stick over you. See; there is lead in the handle, and with
+one blow I can split your skull and dash the brains over the floor."
+
+Judith remained immovable.
+
+"I thought it--you are afraid."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+He let himself, with some pain, slowly into a chair.
+
+"You are afraid. You know what to expect. Ah! I could fell you and
+trample on you and break your bones, as I was cast down, trampled on,
+and broken in my bones yesterday--by you, or through you. Are you
+afraid?"
+
+She took a step toward him. Then Uncle Zachie waved her back, in great
+alarm. He caught Judith's attention, and she answered him, "I am not
+afraid. I gave him a word I should not have given him yesterday. I
+will show him that I retract it fully." Then she stepped up to
+Coppinger and sank on her knees before him. He raised his whip, with
+the loaded handle, brandishing it over her.
+
+"Now I am here," she said, "I again ask your forgiveness, but I
+protest an apology is due to me."
+
+He threw his stick away. "By heaven, it is!" Then in an altered tone,
+"Take it so, that I ask your forgiveness. Get up; do not kneel to me.
+I could not have struck you down had I willed, my arm is stiff.
+Perhaps you knew it."
+
+He rose with effort to his feet again. Judith drew back to her former
+position by the piano, two hectic spots of flame were in her cheek,
+and her eyes were preternaturally bright.
+
+Coppinger looked steadily at her for a while, then he said, "Are you
+ill? You look as if you were."
+
+"I have had much to go through of late."
+
+"True."
+
+He remained looking at her, brooding over something in his mind. She
+perplexed him; he wondered at her. He could not comprehend the spirit
+that was in her, that sustained a delicate little frame, and made her
+defy him.
+
+His eyes wandered round the room, and he signed to Uncle Zachie to
+give him his stick again.
+
+"What is that?" said he, pointing to the miniature on the stand for
+music, where Mr. Menaida had put it, over a sheet of the music he had
+been playing, or attempting to play.
+
+"It is my son, Oliver," said Uncle Zachie.
+
+"Why is it there? Has she been looking at it? Let me see it."
+
+Mr. Menaida hesitated, but presently handed it to the redoubted
+Captain, with nervous twitches in his face. "I value it highly--my
+only child."
+
+Coppinger looked at it, with a curl of his lips; then handed it back
+to Mr. Menaida.
+
+"Why is it here?"
+
+"I brought it here to show it her. I am very proud of my son," said
+Uncle Zachie.
+
+Coppinger was in an irritable mood, captious about trifles. Why did he
+ask questions about this little picture? Why look suspiciously at
+Judith as he did so--suspiciously and threateningly?
+
+"Do you play on the piano?" asked Coppinger. "When the evil spirit was
+on Saul, David struck the harp and sent the spirit away. Let me hear
+how you can touch the notes. It may do me good. Heaven knows it is not
+often I have the leisure, or the occasion, or am in the humor for
+music. I would hear what you can do."
+
+Judith looked at Uncle Zachie.
+
+"I cannot play," she said; "that is to say, I can play, but not now,
+and on this piano."
+
+But Mr. Menaida interfered and urged her to play. He was afraid of
+Coppinger.
+
+She seated herself on the music-stool and considered for a moment. The
+miniature was again on the stand. Coppinger put out his stick and
+thrust it off, and it would have fallen had not Judith caught it. She
+gave it to Mr. Menaida, who hastily carried it into the adjoining
+room, where the sight of it might no longer irritate the Captain.
+
+"What shall I play? I mean, strum?" asked Judith, looking at Uncle
+Zachie. "Beethoven! No--Haydn. Here are his 'Seasons.' I can play
+'Spring.'"
+
+She had a light, but firm touch. Her father had been a man of great
+musical taste, and he had instructed her. But she had, moreover, the
+musical faculty in her, and she played with the spirit and with the
+understanding also. Wondrous is the power of music, passing that of
+fabled necromancy. It takes a man up out of his most sordid
+surroundings, and sets him in heavenly places. It touches fibres of
+the inner nature, lost, forgotten, ignored, and makes them thrill with
+a new life. It seals the eyes to outward sights, and unfurls new
+vistas full of transcendental beauty; it breathes over hot wounds and
+heals them; it calls to the surface springs of pure delight, and bids
+them gush forth in an arid desert.
+
+It was so now, as, under the sympathetic fingers of Judith, Haydn's
+song of the "Spring" was sung. A May world arose in that little dingy
+room; the walls fell back and disclosed green woods thick with red
+robin and bursting bluebells, fields golden with buttercups, hawthorns
+clothed in flower, from which sang the blackbird, thrush, the finch,
+and the ouzel. The low ceiling rose and overarched as the speed-well
+blue vault of heaven, the close atmosphere was dispelled by a waft of
+crisp, pure air; shepherds piped, Boy Blue blew his horn, and
+milkmaids rattled their pails and danced a ballet on the turf; and
+over all, down into every corner of the soul, streamed the glorious,
+golden sun, filling the heart with gladness.
+
+Uncle Zachie had been standing at the door leading into his workshop,
+hesitating whether to remain, with a pish! and a pshaw! or to fly away
+beyond hearing. But he was arrested, then drawn lightly, irresistibly,
+step by step, toward the piano, and he noiselessly sank upon a chair,
+with his eyes fixed on Judith's fingers as they danced over the keys.
+His features assumed a more refined character as he listened; the
+water rose into his eyes, his lips quivered, and when, before reaching
+the end of the piece, Judith faltered and stopped, he laid his hand on
+her wrist and said: "My dear--you play, you do not strum. Play when
+you will--never can it be too long, too much for me. It may steady my
+hand, it may dispel the chill and the damp better than--but never
+mind--never mind."
+
+Why had Judith failed to accomplish the piece? Whilst engaged on the
+notes she had felt that the searching, beaming eyes of the smuggler
+were on her, fixed with fierce intensity. She could meet them, looking
+straight at him, without shrinking, and without confusion, but to be
+searched by them whilst off her guard, her attention engaged on her
+music, was what she could not endure.
+
+Coppinger made no remark on what he had heard, but his face gave token
+that the music had not swept across him without stirring and softening
+his hard nature.
+
+"How long is she to be here with you?" he asked, turning to Uncle
+Zachie.
+
+"Captain, I cannot tell. She and her brother had to leave the rectory.
+They could not remain in that house alone. Mrs. Trevisa asked me to
+lodge them here, and I consented. I knew their father."
+
+"She did not ask me. I would have taken them in."
+
+"Perhaps she was diffident of doing that," said Uncle Zachie. "But
+really, on my word, it is no inconvenience to me. I have room in this
+house, and my maid, Jump, has not enough to do to attend on me."
+
+"When you are tired of them send them to me."
+
+"I am not likely to be tired of Judith, now that I have heard her
+play."
+
+"Judith--is that her name?"
+
+"Yes--Judith."
+
+"Judith!" he repeated, and thrust his stick along the floor,
+meditatively. "Judith!" Then, after a pause, with his eyes on the
+ground, "Why did not your aunt speak to me! Why does she not love
+you?--she does not, I know. Why did she not go to see you when your
+father was alive! Why did you not come to the Glaze?"
+
+"My dear papa did not wish me to go to your house," said Judith,
+answering one of his many questions, the last, and perhaps the easiest
+to reply to.
+
+"Why not?" he glanced up at her, then down on the floor again.
+
+"Papa was not very pleased with Aunt Dunes--it was no fault on either
+side, only a misunderstanding," said Judith.
+
+"Why did he not let you come to my house to salute your aunt?"
+
+Judith hesitated. He again looked up at her searchingly.
+
+"If you really must know the truth, Captain Coppinger, papa thought
+your house was hardly one to which to send two children--it was said
+to harbor such wild folk."
+
+"And he did not know how fiercely and successfully you could defend
+yourself against wild folk," said Coppinger, with a harsh laugh. "It
+is we wild men that must fear you, for you dash us about and bruise
+and break us when displeased with our ways. We are not so bad at the
+Glaze as we are painted, not by a half--here is my hand on it."
+
+Judith was still seated on the music-stool, her hands resting in her
+lap. Coppinger came toward her, walking stiffly, and extending his
+palm.
+
+She looked down in her lap. What did this fierce, strange man, mean?
+
+"Will you give me your hand?" he asked. "Is there peace between us?"
+
+She was doubtful what to say. He remained, awaiting her answer.
+
+"I really do not know what reply to make," she said, after awhile. "Of
+course, so far as I'm concerned, it is peace. I have myself no quarrel
+with you, and you are good enough to say that you forgive me."
+
+"Then why not peace?"
+
+Again she let him wait before answering. She was uneasy and unhappy.
+She wanted neither his goodwill nor his hostility.
+
+"In all that affects me, I bear you no ill-will," she said, in a low,
+tremulous voice; "but in that you were a grief to my dear, dear
+father, discouraging his heart, I cannot be forgetful, and so full of
+charity as to blot it out as though it had not been."
+
+"Then let it be a patched peace--a peace with evasions and
+reservations. Better that than none. Give me your hand."
+
+"On that understanding," said Judith, and laid her hand in his. His
+iron fingers closed round it, and he drew her up from the stool on
+which she sat, drew her forward near the window, and thrust her in
+front of him. Then he raised her hand, held it by the wrist, and
+looked at it.
+
+"It is very small, very weak," he said, musingly.
+
+Then there rushed over her mind the recollection of her last
+conversation with her father. He, too, had taken and looked at her
+hand, and had made the same remark.
+
+Coppinger lowered her hand and his, and, looking at her, said:
+
+"You are very wonderful to me."
+
+"I--why so?"
+
+He did not answer, but let go his hold of her, and turned away to the
+door.
+
+Judith saw that he was leaving, and she hastened to bring him his
+stick, and she opened the door for him.
+
+"I thank you," he said, turned, pointed his stick at her, and added,
+"It is peace--though a patched one."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+C. C.
+
+
+Days ensued, not of rest to body, but of relaxation to mind. Judith's
+overstrained nerves had now given them a period of numbness, a sleep
+of sensibility with occasional turnings and wakenings, in which they
+recovered their strength. She and Jamie were settled into their rooms
+at Mr. Menaida's, and the hours were spent in going to and from the
+rectory removing their little treasures to the new home--if a
+temporary place of lodging could be called a home--and in arranging
+them there.
+
+There were a good many farewells to be taken, and Judith marvelled
+sometimes at the insensibility with which she said them--farewells to
+a thousand nooks and corners of the house and garden, the shrubbery,
+and the glebe farm, all endeared by happy recollections, now having
+their brightness dashed with rain.
+
+To Judith this was a first revelation of the mutability of things on
+earth. Hitherto, as a child, with a child's eyes and a child's
+confidence, she had regarded the rectory, the glebe, the contents of
+the house, the flowers in the garden, as belonging inalienably to her
+father and brother and herself. They belonged to them together. There
+was nothing that was her father's that did not belong to Jamie and to
+her, nothing of her brother's or her own that was not likewise the
+property of papa. There was no mine or thine in that little family of
+love--save only a few birthday presents given from one to the other,
+and these only special property by a playful concession. But now the
+dear father was gone, and every right seemed to dissolve. From the
+moment that he leaned back against the brick, lichen-stained wall, and
+sighed--and was dead, house and land had been snatched from them. And
+though the contents of the rectory, the books, and the furniture, and
+the china belonged to them, it was but for a little while; these
+things must be parted with also, turned into silver.
+
+Not because the money was needed, but because Judith had no settled
+home, and no prospect of one. Therefore she must not encumber herself
+with many belongings. For a little while she would lodge with Mr.
+Menaida, but she could not live there forever; she must remove
+elsewhere, and she must consider, in the first place, that there was
+not room in Uncle Zachie's cottage for accumulations of furniture, and
+that, in the next place, she would probably have to part with them on
+her next remove, even if she did retain them for a while.
+
+If these things were to be parted with, it would be advisable to part
+with them at once. But to this determination Judith could not bring
+herself at first. Though she had put aside, to be kept, things too
+sacred to her, too much part of her past life, to be allowed to go
+into the sale, after a few days she relinquished even these. Those six
+delightful old colored prints, in frames, of a fox-hunt--how Jamie had
+laughed at them, and followed the incidents in them, and never wearied
+of them--must they go--perhaps for a song? It must be so. That
+work-table of her mother's, of dark rosewood, with a crimson bag
+beneath it to contain wools and silks, one of the few remembrances she
+had of that mother whom she but dimly recalled--must that go?--what,
+and all those skeins in it of colored floss silk, and the piece of
+embroidery half finished? the work of her mother, broken off by
+death--that also? It must be so. And that rusty leather chair in which
+papa had sat, with one golden-headed child on each knee cuddled into
+his breast, with the flaps of his coat drawn over their heads, which
+listened to the tick-tick of his great watch, and to the tale of
+Little Snowflake, or Gracieuse and Percinet?--must that go also? It
+must be so.
+
+Every day showed to Judith some fresh link that had to be broken. She
+could not bear to think that the mother's work-table should be
+contended for at a vulgar auction, and struck down to a blousy
+farmer's wife; that her father's chair should go to some village inn
+to be occupied by sots. She would rather have seen them destroyed; but
+to destroy them would not be right.
+
+After a while she longed for the sale; she desired to have it over,
+that an entirely new page of life might be opened, and her thoughts
+might not be carried back to the past by everything she saw.
+
+Of Coppinger nothing further was seen. Nor did Aunt Dionysia appear at
+the rectory to superintend the assortment of the furniture, nor at Mr.
+Menaida's to inquire into the welfare of her nephew and niece. To
+Judith it was a relief not to have her aunt in the parsonage while she
+was there; that hard voice and unsympathetic manner would have kept
+her nerves on the quiver. It was best as it was, that she should have
+time, by herself, with no interference from any one, to select what
+was to be kept and put away what was to be sold; to put away gently,
+with her own trembling hand, and with eyes full of tears, the old
+black gown and the Oxford hood that papa had worn in church, and to
+burn his old sermons and bundles of letters, unread and uncommented on
+by Aunt Dunes.
+
+In these days Judith did not think much of Coppinger. Uncle Zachie
+informed her that he was worse, he was confined to his bed, he had
+done himself harm by coming over to Polzeath the day after his
+accident, and the doctor had ordered him not to stir from Pentyre
+Glaze for some time--not till his bones were set. Nothing was known of
+the occasion of Coppinger's injuries, so Uncle Zachie said; it was
+reported in the place that he had been thrown from his horse. Judith
+entreated the old man not to enlighten the ignorance of the public;
+she was convinced that naught would transpire through Jamie, who could
+not tell a story intelligibly; and Miss Dionysia Trevisa was not
+likely to publish what she knew.
+
+Judith had a pleasant little chamber at Mr. Menaida's; it was small,
+low, plastered against the roof, the rafters showing, and whitewashed
+like the walls and ceiling. The light entered from a dormer in the
+roof, a low window glazed with diamond quarries set in lead that
+clickered incessantly in the wind. It faced the south, and let the sun
+flow in. A scrap of carpet was on the floor, and white curtains to the
+window. In this chamber Judith ranged such of her goods as she had
+resolved on retaining, either as indispensable, or as being too dear
+to her to part with unnecessarily, and which, as being of small size,
+she might keep without difficulty.
+
+Her father's old travelling trunk, covered with hide with the hair
+on, and his initials in brass nails--a trunk he had taken with him to
+college--was there, thrust against the wall; it contained her clothes.
+Suspended above it was her little bookcase, with the shelves laden
+with "The Travels of Rolando," Dr. Aitkin's "Evenings at Home,"
+Magnal's "Questions," a French Dictionary, "Paul and Virginia," and a
+few other works such as were the delight of children from ninety to a
+hundred years ago.
+
+Books for children were rare in those days, and such as were produced
+were read and re-read till they were woven into the very fibre of the
+mind, never more to be extricated and cast aside. Now it is otherwise.
+A child reads a story-book every week, and each new story-book effaces
+the impression produced by the book that went before. The result of
+much reading is the same as the result of no reading--the production
+of a blank.
+
+How Judith and Jamie had sat together perched up in a sycamore, in
+what they called their nest, and had revelled in the adventures of
+Rolando, she reading aloud, he listening a little, then lapsing into
+observation of the birds that flew and hopped about, or the insects
+that spun and crept, or dropped on silky lines, or fluttered humming
+about the nest, then returned to attention to the book again! Rolando
+would remain through life the friend and companion of Judith. She
+could not part with the four-volumed, red-leather-backed book.
+
+For the first day or two Jamie had accompanied his sister to the
+rectory, and had somewhat incommoded her by his restlessness and his
+mischief, but on the third day, and thenceforth, he no longer attended
+her. He had made fast friends with Uncle Zachie. He was amused with
+watching the process of bird-stuffing, and the old man made use of the
+boy by giving him tow to pick to pieces and wires to straighten.
+
+Mr. Menaida was pleased to have some one by him in his workshop to
+whom he could talk. It was unimportant to him whether the listener
+followed the thread of his conversation or not, so long as he was a
+listener. Mr. Menaida, in his solitude, had been wont to talk to
+himself, to grumble to himself at the impatience of his customers, to
+lament to himself the excess of work that pressed upon him and
+deprived him of time for relaxation. He was wont to criticise, to
+himself, his success or want of success in the setting-up of a bird.
+It was far more satisfactory to him to be able to address all these
+remarks to a second party.
+
+He was, moreover, surprised to find how keen and just had been Jamie's
+observation of birds, their ways, their attitudes. Judith was
+delighted to think that Jamie had discovered talent of some sort, and
+he had, so Uncle Zachie assured her, that imitative ability which is
+often found to exist alongside with low intellectual power, and this
+enabled him to assist Mr. Menaida in giving a natural posture to his
+birds.
+
+It flattered the boy to find that he was appreciated, that he was
+consulted, and asked to assist in a kind of work that exacted nothing
+of his mind.
+
+When Uncle Zachie was tired of his task, which was every ten minutes
+or quarter of an hour, and that was the extreme limit to which he
+could continue regular work, he lit his pipe, left his bench, and sat
+in his arm-chair. Then Jamie also left his tow-picking or
+wire-punching, and listened, or seemed to listen, to Mr. Menaida's
+talk. When the old man had finished his pipe, and, with a sigh, went
+back to his task, Jamie was tired of hearing him talk, and was glad to
+resume his work. Thus the two desultory creatures suited each other
+admirably, and became attached friends.
+
+"Jamie! what is the meaning of this?" asked Judith, with a start and a
+rush of blood to her heart.
+
+She had returned in the twilight from the parsonage. There was
+something in the look of her brother, something in his manner that was
+unusual.
+
+"Jamie! What have you been taking? Who gave it you?"
+
+She caught the boy by the arm. Distress and shame were in her face, in
+the tones of her voice.
+
+Mr. Menaida grunted.
+
+"I'm sorry, but it can't be helped--really it can't," said he,
+apologetically. "But Captain Coppinger has sent me down a present of a
+keg of cognac--real cognac, splendid, amber-like--and, you know, it was
+uncommonly kind. He never did it before. So there was no avoidance; we
+had to tap it and taste it, and give a sup to the fellow who brought
+us the keg, and drink the health of the Captain. One could not be
+churlish; and, naturally, I could not abstain from letting Jamie try
+the spirit. Perfectly pure--quite wholesome--first-rate quality. Upon
+my word, he had not more than a fly could dip his legs in and feel the
+bottom; but he is unaccustomed to anything stronger than cider, and
+this is stronger than I supposed."
+
+"Mr. Menaida, you promised me--"
+
+"Bless me! There are contingencies, you know. I never for a moment
+thought that Captain Coppinger would show me such a favor, would have
+such courtesy. But, upon my honor, I think it is your doing, my dear!
+You shook hands and made peace with him, and he has sent this in token
+of the cessation of hostilities and the ratification of the
+agreement."
+
+"Mr. Menaida, I trusted you. I did believe, when you passed your word
+to me, that you would hold to it."
+
+"Now--there, don't take it in that way. Jamie, you rascal, hop off to
+bed. He'll be right as a trivet to-morrow morning, I stake my
+reputation on that. There, there, I will help him up-stairs."
+
+Judith suffered Mr. Menaida to do as he proposed. When he had left the
+room with Jamie, who was reluctant to go, and struggled to remain, she
+seated herself on the sofa, and covering her face with her hands burst
+into tears. Whom could she trust? No one.
+
+Had she been alone in the world she would have been more confident of
+the future, been able to look forward with a good courage; but she had
+to carry Jamie with her, who must be defended from himself, and from
+the weak good-nature of those he was with.
+
+When Uncle Zachie came down-stairs he slunk into his workroom and was
+very quiet. No lamp or candle was lighted, and it was too dark for him
+to continue his employment on the birds. What was he doing? Nothing.
+He was ashamed of himself, and keeping out of Judith's way.
+
+But Judith would not let him escape so easily; she went to him, as he
+avoided her, and found him seated in a corner turning his pipe about.
+He had been afraid of striking a light, lest he should call her
+attention to his presence.
+
+"Oh, my dear, come in here into the workshop to me! This is an honor,
+an unexpected pleasure. Jamie and I have been drudging like slaves all
+day, and we're fagged--fagged to the ends of our fingers and toes."
+
+"Mr. Menaida, I am sorry to say it, but if such a thing happens again
+as has taken place this evening, Jamie and I must leave your house. I
+thank you with an overflowing heart for your goodness to us; but I
+must consider Jamie above everything else, and I must see that he be
+not exposed to temptation."
+
+"Where will you take him?"
+
+"I cannot tell; but I must shield him."
+
+"There, there, not a word! It shall never happen again. Now let
+by-gones be by-gones, and play me something of Beethoven, while I sit
+here and listen in the twilight."
+
+"No, Mr. Menaida, I cannot. I have not the spirit to do it. I can
+think only of Jamie."
+
+"So you punish me!"
+
+"Take it so. I am sorry; but I cannot do otherwise."
+
+"Now, look here! Bless my soul! I had almost forgotten it. Here is a
+note for you, from the Captain, I believe." He went to the
+chimney-piece and took down a scrap of paper, folded and sealed.
+
+Judith looked at it and went to the window, broke the seal, and opened
+the paper. She read--
+
+    "Why do you not come and see me? You do not care for what you
+    have done. They call me cruel; but you are that.--C. C."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+EGO ET REGINA MEA.
+
+
+The strange, curt note from Cruel Coppinger served in a measure to
+divert the current of Judith's thoughts from her trouble about Jamie.
+It was, perhaps, as well, or she would have fretted over that
+throughout the night, not only because of Jamie, but because she felt
+that her father had left his solemn injunction on her to protect and
+guide her twin-brother, and she knew that whatsoever harm, physical or
+moral, came to him, argued a lack of attention to her duty. Her father
+had not been dead many days, and already Jamie had been led from the
+path she had undertaken to keep him in.
+
+But when she began to worry herself about Jamie, the bold characters,
+"C. C.," with which the letter was signed, rose before her, and glowed
+in the dark as characters of fire.
+
+She had gone to her bedroom, and had retired for the night, but could
+not sleep. The moon shone through the lattice into her chamber, and on
+the stool by the window lay the letter, where she had cast it. Her
+mind turned to it.
+
+Why did Coppinger call her cruel? Was she cruel? Not intentionally so.
+She had not wilfully injured him. He did not suppose that. He meant
+that she was heartless and indifferent in letting him suffer without
+making any inquiry concerning him.
+
+He had injured himself by coming to Polzeath to see her the day
+following his accident. Uncle Zachie had assured her of that.
+
+She went on in her busy mind to ask why he had come to see her? Surely
+there had been no need for him to do so! His motive--the only motive
+she could imagine--was a desire to relieve her from anxiety and
+distress of mind; a desire to show her that he bore no ill-will toward
+her for what she had done. That was generous and considerate of him.
+Had he not come she certainly would have been unhappy and in unrest,
+would have imagined all kinds of evil as likely to ensue through his
+hostility--for one thing, her aunt's dismissal from her post might
+have been expected.
+
+But Coppinger, though in pain, and at a risk to his health, had walked
+to where she was lodging to disabuse her of any such impression. She
+was grateful to him for so doing. She felt that such a man could not
+be utterly abandoned by God, entirely void of good qualities, as she
+had supposed, viewing him only through the representations of his
+character and the tales circulating relative to his conduct that had
+reached her.
+
+A child divides mankind into two classes--the good and the bad, and
+supposes that there is no debatable land between them, where light and
+shade are blended into neutral tint; certainly not that there are
+blots on the white leaf of the lives of the good, and luminous
+glimpses in the darkness of the histories of the bad. As they grow
+older they rectify their judgments, and such a rectification Judith
+had now to make.
+
+She was assisted in this by compassion for Coppinger, who was in
+suffering, and by self-reproach, because she was the occasion of this
+suffering.
+
+What were the exact words Captain Cruel had employed? She was not
+certain; she turned the letter over and over in her mind, and could
+not recall every expression, and she could not sleep till she was
+satisfied.
+
+Therefore she rose from bed, stole to the window, took up the letter,
+seated herself on the stool, and conned it in the moonlight. "Why do
+you not come and see me? You do not care for what you have done." That
+was not true; she was greatly troubled at what she had done. She was
+sick at heart when she thought of that scene in the lane, when the
+black mare was leaping and pounding with her hoofs, and Coppinger lay
+on the ground. One kick of the hoof on his head, and he would have
+been dead. His blood would have rested on her conscience, never to be
+wiped off. Horrible was the recollection now, in the stillness of the
+night. It was marvellous that life had not been beaten out of the
+prostrate man, that, dragged about by the arm, he had not been torn to
+pieces, that every bone had not been shattered, that his face had not
+been battered out of recognition. Judith felt the perspiration stand
+on her brow at the thought. God had been very good to her in sending
+His angel to save Coppinger from death and her from blood-guiltiness.
+She slid to her knees at the window, and held up her hands, the
+moonlight illuminating her white upturned face, as she gave thanks to
+Heaven that no greater evil had ensued from her inconsidered act with
+the button-basket than a couple of broken bones.
+
+Oh! it was very far indeed from true that she did not care for what
+she had done. Coppinger must have been blind indeed not to have seen
+how she felt her conduct. His letter concluded: "They call me cruel;
+but you are that." He meant that she was cruel in not coming to the
+Glaze to inquire after him. He had thought of her trouble of mind, and
+had gone to Polzeath to relieve her of anxiety, and she had shown no
+consideration for him--or not in like manner.
+
+She had been very busy at the rectory. Her mind had been concerned
+with her own affairs, that was her excuse. Cruel she was not. She took
+no pleasure in his pain. But she hesitated about going to see him.
+That was more than was to be expected of a young girl. She would go on
+the morrow to Coppinger's house, and ask to speak to her aunt; that
+she might do, and from Aunt Dionysia she would learn in what condition
+Captain Cruel was, and might send him her respects and wishes for his
+speedy recovery.
+
+As she still knelt in her window, looking up through the diamond panes
+into the clear, gray-blue sky, she heard a sound without, and, looking
+down, saw a convoy of horses pass, laden with bales and kegs, and
+followed or accompanied by men wearing slouched hats. So little noise
+did the beasts make in traversing the road, that Judith was convinced
+their hoofs must be muffled in felt. She had heard that this was done
+by the smugglers. It was said that all Coppinger's horses had their
+boots drawn on when engaged in conveying run goods from the place
+where stored to their destination.
+
+These were Coppinger's men, this his convoy, doubtless. Judith thrust
+the letter from her. He was a bad man, a very bad man; and if he had
+met with an accident, it was his due, a judgment on his sins. She rose
+from her knees, turned away, and went back to her bed.
+
+Next day, after a morning spent at the rectory, in the hopes that her
+aunt might arrive and obviate the need of her going in quest of her,
+Judith, disappointed in this hope, prepared to walk to Pentyre. Mrs.
+Dionysia had not acted with kindness toward her. Judith felt this,
+without allowing herself to give to the feeling articulate expression.
+She made what excuses she could for Aunt Dunes: she was hindered by
+duties that had crowded upon her, she had been forbidden going by
+Captain Cruel; but none of these excuses satisfied Judith.
+
+Judith must go herself to the Glaze, and she had reasons of her own
+for wishing to see her aunt, independent of the sense of obligation on
+her, more or less acknowledged, that she must obey the summons of
+C. C. There were matters connected with the rectory, with the
+furniture there, the cow, and the china, that Mrs. Trevisa must give
+her judgment upon. There were bills that had come in, which Mrs.
+Trevisa must pay, as Judith had been left without any money in her
+pocket.
+
+As the girl walked through the lanes she turned over in her mind the
+stories she had heard of the smuggler Captain, the wild tales of his
+wrecking ships, of his contests with the Preventive men, and the
+ghastly tragedy of Wyvill, who had been washed up headless on Doombar.
+In former days she had accepted all these stories as true, had not
+thought of questioning them; but now that she had looked Coppinger in
+the face, had spoken with him, experienced his consideration, she
+could not believe that they were to be accepted without question. That
+story of Wyvill--that Captain Cruel had hacked off his head on the
+gunwale with his axe--seemed to her now utterly incredible. But if
+true! She shuddered to think that her hand had been held in that
+stained with so hideous a crime.
+
+Thus musing, Judith arrived at Pentyre Glaze, and entering the porch,
+turned from the sea, knocked at the door.
+
+A loud voice bade her enter. She knew that the voice proceeded from
+Coppinger, and her heart fluttered with fear and uncertainty. She
+halted, with her hand on the door, inclined to retreat without
+entering; but again the voice summoned her to come in, and gathering
+up her courage she opened the door, and, still holding the latch,
+took a few steps forward into the hall or kitchen, into which it
+opened.
+
+A fire was smouldering in the great open fireplace, and beside it, in
+a carved oak arm-chair, sat Cruel Coppinger, with a small table at his
+side, on which were a bottle and glass, a canister of tobacco and a
+pipe. His arm was strapped across his breast as she had seen it a few
+days before. Entering from the brilliant light of day, Judith could
+not at first observe his face, but, as her eyes became accustomed to
+the twilight of the smoke-blackened and gloomy hall, she saw that he
+looked more worn and pale than he had seemed the day after the
+accident. Nor could she understand the expression on his countenance
+when he was aware who was his visitor.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Judith; "I am sorry to have intruded; but I
+wished to speak to my aunt."
+
+"Your aunt? Old mother Dunes? Come in. Let go your hold of the door
+and shut it. Your aunt started a quarter of an hour ago for the
+rectory."
+
+"And I came along the lane from Polzeath."
+
+"Then no wonder you did not meet her. She went by the church path, of
+course, and over the down."
+
+"I am sorry to have missed her. Thank you, Captain Coppinger, for
+telling me."
+
+"Stay!" he roared, as he observed her draw back into the porch. "You
+are not going yet!"
+
+"I cannot stay for more than a moment in which to ask how you do, and
+whether you are somewhat better? I was sorry to hear you had been
+worse."
+
+"I have been worse, yes. Come in. You shall not go. I am mewed in as a
+prisoner, and have none to speak to, and no one to look at but old
+Dunes. Come in, and take that stool by the fire, and let me hear you
+speak, and let me rest my eyes a while on your golden hair--gold more
+golden than that of the Indies."
+
+"I hope you are better, sir," said Judith, ignoring the compliment.
+
+"I am better now I have seen you. I shall be worse if you do not come
+in."
+
+She refused to do this by a light shake of the head.
+
+"I suppose you are afraid. We are wild and lawless men here, ogres
+that eat children! Come, child, I have something to show you."
+
+"Thank you for your kindness; but I must run to the parsonage; I
+really _must_ see my aunt."
+
+"Then I will send her to Polzeath to you when she returns. She will
+keep; she's stale enough."
+
+"I would spare her the trouble."
+
+"Pshaw! She shall do what I will. Now see--I am wearied to death with
+solitude and sickness. Come, amuse yourself, if you will, with
+insulting me--calling me what you like; I do not mind, so long as you
+remain."
+
+"I have no desire whatever, Captain Coppinger, to insult you and call
+you names."
+
+"You insult me by standing there holding the latch--standing on one
+foot, as if afraid to sully the soles by treading my tainted floor. Is
+it not an insult that you refuse to come in? Is it not so much as
+saying to me, 'You are false, cruel, not to be trusted; you are not
+worthy that I should be under the same roof with you, and breathe the
+same air?'"
+
+"Oh, Captain Coppinger, I do not mean that!"
+
+"Then let go the latch and come in. Stand, if you will not sit,
+opposite me. How can I see you there, in the doorway?"
+
+"There is not much to see when I am visible," said Judith, laughing.
+
+"Oh, no! not much! Only a little creature who has more daring than any
+man in Cornwall--who will stand up to, and cast at her feet, Cruel
+Coppinger, at whose name men tremble."
+
+Judith let go her hold on the door, and moved timidly into the hall;
+but she let the door remain half open that the light and air flowed
+in.
+
+"And now," said Captain Coppinger, "here is a key on this table by me.
+Do you see a small door by the clock-case? Unlock that door with the
+key."
+
+"You want something from thence!"
+
+"I want you to unlock the door. There are beautiful and costly things
+within that you shall see."
+
+"Thank you; but I would rather look at them some other day, when my
+aunt is here, and I have more time."
+
+"Will you refuse me even the pleasure of letting you see what is
+there?"
+
+"If you particularly desire it, Captain Coppinger, I will peep in--but
+only peep."
+
+She took the key from his table, and crossed the hall to the door.
+The lock was large and clumsy, but she turned the key by putting both
+hands to it. Then, swinging open the door, she looked inside. The door
+opened into an apartment crowded with a collection of sundry articles
+of value: bales of silk from Italy, Genoa laces, Spanish silver-inlaid
+weapons, Chinese porcelain, bronzes from Japan, gold and silver
+ornaments, bracelets, brooches, watches, inlaid mother-of-pearl
+cabinets--an amazing congeries of valuables heaped together.
+
+"Well, now!" shouted Cruel Coppinger. "What say you to the gay things
+there? Choose--take what you will. I care not for them one rush. What
+do you most admire, most covet? Put out both hands and take--take all
+you would have; fill your lap, carry off all you can. It is yours."
+
+Judith drew hastily back and relocked the door.
+
+"What have you taken?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Nothing? Take what you will; I give it freely."
+
+"I cannot take anything, though I thank you, Captain Coppinger, for
+your kind and generous offer."
+
+"You will accept nothing?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"That is like you. You do it to anger me. As you throw hard words at
+me--coward, wrecker, robber--and as you dash broken glass, buttons,
+buckles, in my face, so do you throw back my offers."
+
+"It is not through ingratitude--"
+
+"I care not through what it is! You seek to anger, and not to please
+me. Why will you take nothing? There are beautiful things there to
+charm a woman."
+
+"I am not a woman; I am a little girl."
+
+"Why do you refuse me!"
+
+"For one thing, because I want none of the things there, beautiful and
+costly though they be."
+
+"And for the other thing----?"
+
+"For the other thing--excuse my plain speaking--I do not think they
+have been honestly got."
+
+"By heavens!" shouted Coppinger. "There you attack and stab at me
+again. I like your plainness of speech. You do not spare me. I would
+not have you false and double like old Dunes."
+
+"Oh, Captain Coppinger! I give you thanks from the depths of my
+heart. It is kindly intended, and it is so good and noble of you, I
+feel that; for I have hurt you and reduced you to the state in which
+you now are, and yet you offer me the best things in your
+house--things of priceless value. I acknowledge your goodness; but
+just because I know I do not deserve this goodness I must decline what
+you offer."
+
+"Then come here and give me the key."
+
+She stepped lightly over the floor to him and handed him the great
+iron key to his store chamber. As she did so he caught her hand, bowed
+his dark head, and kissed her fingers.
+
+"Captain Coppinger!" She started back, trembling, and snatched her
+hand from him.
+
+"What! have I offended you again? Why not? A subject kisses the hand
+of his queen; and I am a subject, and you--you my queen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+JESSAMINE.
+
+
+"How are you, old man?"
+
+"Middlin', thanky'; and how be you, gov'nor?"
+
+"Middlin' also; and your missus?"
+
+"Only sadly. I fear she's goin' slow but sure the way of all flesh."
+
+"Bless us! 'Tis a trouble and expense them sort o' things. Now to
+work, shall we? What do you figure up?"
+
+"And you?"
+
+"Oh, well, I'm not here on reg'lar business. Huntin' on my own score
+to-day."
+
+"Oh, ay! Nice port this."
+
+"Best the old fellow had in his cellar. I told the executrix I should
+like the taste of it, and advise thereon."
+
+The valuers for dilapidations, vulgarly termed dilapidators, were met
+in the dining-room of the deserted parsonage. Mr. Scantlebray was on
+one side, Mr. Cargreen on the other. Mr. Scantlebray was on that of
+the "orphings," as he termed his clients, and Mr. Cargreen on that of
+the Rev. Mr. Mules, the recently nominated rector to S. Enodoc.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray was a tall, lean man, with light gray eyes, a red
+face, and legs and arms that he shook every now and then as though
+they were encumbrances to his trunk and he was going to shake them
+off, as a poodle issuing from a bath shakes the water out of his
+locks. Mr. Cargreen was a bullet-headed man, with a white neckcloth,
+gray whiskers, a solemn face, and a sort of perpetual "Let-us-pray"
+expression on his lips and in his eyes--a composing of his interior
+faculties and abstraction from worldly concerns.
+
+"I am here," said Mr. Scantlebray, "as adviser and friend--you
+understand, old man--of the orphings and their haunt."
+
+"And I," said Mr. Cargreen, "am ditto to the incoming rector."
+
+"And what do you get out of this visit!" asked Mr. Scantlebray, who
+was a frank man.
+
+"Only three guineas as a fee," said Mr. Cargreen. "And you?"
+
+"Ditto, old man--three guineas. You understand, I am not here as
+valuer to-day."
+
+"Nor I--only as adviser."
+
+"Exactly! Taste this port. 'Taint bad--out of the cellar of the old
+chap. Told auntie I must have it, to taste and give opinion on."
+
+"And what are you going to do to-day?"
+
+"I'm going to have one or two little things pulled down, and other
+little things put to rights."
+
+"Humph! I'm here to see nothing is pulled down."
+
+"We won't quarrel. There's the conservatory, and the linney in Willa
+Park."
+
+"I don't know," said Cargreen, shaking his head.
+
+"Now look here, old man," said Mr. Scantlebray. "You let me tear the
+linney down, and I'll let the conservatory stand."
+
+"The conservatory----"
+
+"I know; the casement of the best bedroom went through the roof of it.
+I'll mend the roof and repaint it. You can try the timber, and find it
+rotten, and lay on dilapidations enough to cover a new conservatory.
+Pass the linney; I want to make pickings out of that."
+
+It may perhaps be well to let the reader understand the exact
+situation of the two men engaged in sipping port. Directly it was
+known that a rector had been nominated to S. Enodoc, Mr. Cargreen, a
+Bodmin valuer, agent, and auctioneer, had written to the happy
+nominee, Mr. Mules, of Birmingham, inclosing his card in the letter,
+to state that he was a member of an old-established firm, enjoying the
+confidence, not to say the esteem of the principal county families in
+the north of Cornwall, that he was a sincere Churchman, that
+deploring, as a true son of the Church, the prevalence of Dissent, he
+felt it his duty to call the attention of the reverend gentleman to
+certain facts that concerned him, but especially the CHURCH, and facts
+that he himself, as a devoted son of the Church, on conviction, after
+mature study of its tenets, felt called upon, in the interest of that
+Church he so had at heart, to notice. He had heard, said Mr. Cargreen,
+that the outgoing parties from S. Enodoc were removing, or causing to
+be removed, or were proposing to remove, certain fixtures in the
+parsonage, and certain out-buildings, barns, tenements, sheds, and
+linneys on the glebe and parsonage premises, to the detriment of its
+value, inasmuch as that such removal would be prejudicial to the
+letting of the land, and render it impossible for the incoming rector
+to farm it himself without re-erecting the very buildings now in
+course of destruction, or which were purposed to be destroyed: to wit,
+certain out-buildings, barns, cattle-sheds, and linneys, together with
+other tenements that need not be specified. Mr. Cargreen added that,
+roughly speaking, the dilapidations of these buildings, if allowed to
+stand, might be assessed at L300; but that, if pulled down, it would
+cost the new rector about L700 to re-erect them, and their re-erection
+would be an imperative necessity. Mr. Cargreen had himself,
+personally, no interest in the matter; but, as a true son of the
+Church, etc., etc.
+
+By return of post Mr. Cargreen received an urgent request from the
+Rev. Mr. Mules to act as his agent, and to act with precipitation in
+the protection of his interests.
+
+In the meantime Mr. Scantlebray had not been neglectful of other
+people's interest. He had written to Miss Dionysia Trevisa to inform
+her that, though he did not enjoy a present acquaintance, it was the
+solace and joy of his heart to remember that some years ago, before
+that infelicitous marriage of Mr. Trevisa, which had led to Miss
+Dionysia's leaving the rectory, it had been his happiness to meet her
+at the house of a mutual acquaintance, Mrs. Scaddon, where he had
+respectfully, and, at this distance of time, he ventured to add,
+humbly and hopelessly admired her; that, as he was riding past the
+rectory he had chanced to observe the condition of dilapidation
+certain tenements, pig-sties, cattle-sheds, and other out-buildings
+were in, and that, though it in no way concerned him, yet, for auld
+lang syne's sake, and a desire to assist one whom he had always
+venerated, and, at this distance of time might add, had admired, he
+ventured to offer a suggestion: to wit, That a number of unnecessary
+out-buildings should be torn down and utterly effaced before a new
+rector was nominated, and had appointed a valuer; also that certain
+obvious repairs should be undertaken and done at once, so as to give
+to the parsonage the appearance of being in excellent order, and cut
+away all excuse for piling up dilapidations. Mr. Scantlebray ventured
+humbly to state that he had had a good deal of experience with those
+gentlemen who acted as valuers for dilapidations, and with pain he was
+obliged to add that a more unscrupulous set of men it had never been
+his bad fortune to come into contact with. He ventured to assert that,
+were he to tell all he knew, or only half of what he knew, as to their
+proceedings in valuing for dilapidations, he would make both of Miss
+Trevisa's ears tingle.
+
+At once Miss Dionysia entreated Mr. Scantlebray to superintend and
+carry out with expedition such repairs and such demolitions as he
+deemed expedient, so as to forestall the other party.
+
+"Chicken!" said Mr. Cargreen. "That's what I've brought for my lunch."
+
+"And 'am is what I've got," said Mr. Scantlebray. "They'll go lovely
+together." Then, in a loud tone--"Come in!"
+
+The door opened, and a carpenter entered with a piece of deal board in
+his hand.
+
+"You won't mind looking out of the winder, Mr. Cargreen?" said Mr.
+Scantlebray. "Some business that's partick'ler my own. You'll find the
+jessamine--the white jessamine--smells beautiful."
+
+Mr. Cargreen rose, and went to the dining-room window that was
+embowered in white jessamine, then in full flower and fragrance.
+
+"What is it, Davy?"
+
+"Well, sir, I ain't got no dry old board for the floor where it be
+rotten, nor for the panelling of the doors where broken through."
+
+"No board at all?"
+
+"No, sir--all is green. Only cut last winter."
+
+"Won't it take paint?"
+
+"Well, sir, not well. I've dried this piece by the kitchen fire, and I
+find it'll take the paint for a time."
+
+"Run, dry all the panels at the kitchen fire, and then paint 'em."
+
+"Thanky', sir; but, how about the boarding of the floor? The boards'll
+warp and start."
+
+"Look here, Davy, that gentleman who's at the winder a-smelling to
+the jessamine is the surveyor and valuer to t'other party. I fancy
+you'd best go round outside and have a word with him and coax him to
+pass the boards."
+
+"Come in!" in a loud voice. Then there entered a man in a cloth coat,
+with very bushy whiskers. "How d'y' do, Spargo? What do you want?"
+
+"Well, Mr. Scantlebray, I understand the linney and cow-shed is to be
+pulled down."
+
+"So it is, Spargo."
+
+"Well, sir!" Mr. Spargo drew his sleeve across his mouth. "There's a
+lot of very fine oak timber in it--beams, and such like--that I don't
+mind buying. As a timber merchant I could find a use for it."
+
+"Say ten pound."
+
+"Ten pun'! That's a long figure!"
+
+"Not a pound too much; but come--we'll say eight."
+
+"I reckon I'd thought five."
+
+"Five! pshaw! It's dirt cheap to _you_ at eight."
+
+"Why to me, sir?"
+
+"Why, because the new rector will want to rebuild both cattle-shed and
+linney, and he'll have to go to you for timber."
+
+"But suppose he don't, and cuts down some on the glebe?"
+
+"No, Spargo--not a bit. There at the winder, smelling to the
+jessamine, is the new rector's adviser and agent. Go round by the
+front door into the garding, and say a word to him--you understand,
+and--" Mr. Scantlebray tapped his palm. "Do now go round and have a
+sniff of the jessamine, Mr. Spargo, and I don't fancy Mr. Cargreen
+will advise the rector to use home-grown timber. He'll tell him it
+sleeps away, gets the rot, comes more expensive in the long run."
+
+The valuer took a wing of chicken and a little ham, and then shouted,
+with his mouth full--"Come in!"
+
+The door opened and admitted a farmer.
+
+"How do, Mr. Joshua? middlin'?"
+
+"Middlin', sir, thanky'."
+
+"And what have you come about, sir?"
+
+"Well--Mr. Scantlebray, sir! I fancy you ha'n't offered me quite
+enough for carting away of all the rummage from them buildings as is
+coming down. 'Tis a terrible lot of stone, and I'm to take 'em so far
+away."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, sir, it's such a lot of work for the bosses, and the pay so
+poor."
+
+"Not a morsel, Joshua--not a morsel."
+
+"Well, sir, I can't do it at the price."
+
+"Oh, Joshua! Joshua! I thought you'd a better eye to the future. Don't
+you see that the new rector will have to build up all these
+out-buildings again, and where else is he to get stone except out of
+your quarry, or some of the old stone you have carted away, which you
+will have the labor of carting back?"
+
+"Well, sir, I don't know."
+
+"But I do, Joshua."
+
+"The new rector might go elsewhere for stone."
+
+"Not he. Look there, at the winder is Mr. Cargreen, and he's in with
+the new parson, like a brother--knows his very soul. The new parson
+comes from Birmingham. What can he tell about building-stone here? Mr.
+Cargreen will tell him yours is the only stuff that ain't powder."
+
+"But, sir, he may not rebuild."
+
+"He must. Mr. Cargreen will tell him that he can't let the glebe
+without buildings; and he can't build without your quarry stone: and
+if he has your quarry stone--why, you will be given the carting also.
+Are you satisfied?"
+
+"Yes--if Mr. Cargreen would be sure----"
+
+"He's there at the winder, a-smelling to the jessamine. You go round
+and have a talk to him, and make him understand--you know. He's a
+little hard o' hearing; but the drum o' his ear is here," said
+Scantlebray, tapping his palm.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray was now left to himself to discuss the chicken
+wing--the liver wing he had taken--and sip the port; a conversation
+was going on in an undertone at the window; but that concerned Mr.
+Cargreen and not himself, so he paid no attention to it.
+
+After a while, however, when this hum ceased, he turned his head, and
+called out:
+
+"Old man! how about your lunch?"
+
+"I'm coming."
+
+"And you found the jessamine very sweet?"
+
+"Beautiful! beautiful!"
+
+"Taste this port. It is not what it should be: some the old fellow
+laid in when he could afford it--before he married. It is passed, and
+going back; should have been drunk five years ago."
+
+Mr. Cargreen came to the table, and seated himself. Then Mr.
+Scantlebray flapped his arms, shook out his legs, and settled himself
+to the enjoyment of the lunch, in the society of Mr. Cargreen.
+
+"The merry-thought! Pull with me, old man?"
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray and Mr. Cargreen were engaged on the merry-thought,
+each endeavoring to steal an advantage on the other, by working the
+fingers up the bone unduly, when the window was darkened.
+
+Without desisting from pulling at the merry-thought each turned his
+head, and Scantlebray at once let go his end of the bone. At the
+window stood Captain Coppinger looking in at the couple, with his
+elbow resting on the window-sill.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray flattered himself that he was on good terms with all
+the world, and he at once with hilarity saluted the Captain by raising
+the fingers greased by the bone to his brow.
+
+"Didn't reckon on seeing you here, Cap'n."
+
+"I suppose not."
+
+"Come and pick a bone with us?"
+
+Coppinger laughed a short snort through his nostrils.
+
+"I have a bone to pick with you already."
+
+"Never! no, never!"
+
+"You have forced yourself on Miss Trevisa to act as her agent and
+valuer in the matter of dilapidations."
+
+"Not forced, Captain. She asked me to give her friendly counsel. We
+are old acquaintances."
+
+"I will not waste words. Give me her letter. She no longer requires
+your advice and counsel. I am going to act for her."
+
+"You, Cap'n! Lor' bless me! You don't mean to say so!"
+
+"Yes. I will protect her against being pillaged. She is my
+housekeeper."
+
+"But see! she is only executrix. She gets nothing out of the
+property."
+
+"No--but her niece and nephew do. Take it that I act for them. Give me
+up her letter."
+
+Mr. Scantlebray hesitated.
+
+"But, Cap'n, I've been to vast expense. I've entered into
+agreements----"
+
+"With whom?"
+
+"With carpenter and mason about the repairs."
+
+"Give me the agreements."
+
+"Not agreements exactly. They sent me in their estimates, and I
+accepted them, and set them to work."
+
+"Give me the estimates."
+
+Mr. Scantlebray flapped all his limbs, and shook his head.
+
+"You don't suppose I carry these sort of things about with me?"
+
+"I have no doubt whatever they are in your pocket." Scantlebray
+fidgeted.
+
+"Cap'n, try this port--a little going back, but not to be sneezed at."
+
+Coppinger leaned forward through the window.
+
+"Who is that man with you?"
+
+"Mr. Cargreen."
+
+"What is he here for?"
+
+"I am agent for the Reverend Mules, the newly appointed rector," said
+Mr. Cargreen, with some dignity.
+
+"Then I request you both to step to the window to me."
+
+The two men looked at each other. Scantlebray jumped up, and Cargreen
+followed. They stood in the window-bay at a respectful distance from
+Cruel Coppinger.
+
+"I suppose you know who I am?" said the latter, fixing his eyes on
+Cargreen.
+
+"I believe I can form a guess."
+
+"And your duty to your client is to make out as bad a case as you can
+against the two children. They have had just one thousand pounds left
+them. You are going to get as much of that away from them as you are
+permitted."
+
+"My good sir--allow me to explain----"
+
+"There is no need," said Coppinger. "Suffice it that you are one side.
+I--Cruel Coppinger--on the other. Do you understand what that means?"
+
+Mr. Cargreen became alarmed, his face became very blank.
+
+"I am not a man to waste words. I am not a man that many in Cornwall
+would care to have as an adversary. Do you ever travel at night, Mr.
+Cargreen?"
+
+"Yes, sir, sometimes."
+
+"Through the lanes and along the lonely roads?"
+
+"Perhaps, sir--now and then."
+
+"So do I," said Coppinger. He drew a pistol from his pocket, and
+played with it. The two "dilapidators" shrank back. "So do I," said
+Coppinger; "but I never go unarmed. I would advise you to do the
+same--if you are my adversary."
+
+"I hope, Captain, that--that----"
+
+"If those children suffer through you more than what I allow"--Coppinger
+drew up his one shoulder that he could move--"I should advise you to
+consider what Mrs. Cargreen will have to live on when a widow." Then
+he turned to Scantlebray, who was sneaking behind the window-curtain.
+
+"Miss Trevisa's letter, authorizing you to act for her?"
+
+Scantlebray, with shaking hand, groped for his pocket-book.
+
+"And the two agreements or estimates you signed."
+
+Scantlebray gave him the letter.
+
+"The agreements also."
+
+Nervously the surveyor groped again, and reluctantly produced them.
+Captain Coppinger opened them with his available hand.
+
+"What is this? Five pounds in pencil added to each, and then summed up
+in the total? What is the meaning of that, pray?"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray again endeavored to disappear behind the curtain.
+
+"Come forward!" shouted Captain Cruel, striking the window-sill with
+the pistol.
+
+Scantlebray jumped out of his retreat at once.
+
+"What is the meaning of these two five pounds?"
+
+"Well, sir--Captain--it is usual; every one does it. It is my--what
+d'y' call it!--consideration for accepting the estimates."
+
+"And added to each, and then charged to the orphans, who pay you to
+act in their interest--so they pay wittingly, directly, and
+unwittingly, indirectly. Well for you and for Mrs. Scantlebray that I
+release you of your obligation to act for Mother Dunes--I mean Miss
+Trevisa."
+
+"Sir," said Cargreen, "under the circumstances, under intimidation, I
+decline to sully my fingers with the business. I shall withdraw."
+
+"No, you shall not," said Cruel Coppinger, resolutely. "You shall act,
+and act as I approve; and in the end it shall not be to your
+disadvantage."
+
+Then, without a word of farewell, he stood up, slipped the pistol back
+into his pocket, and strode away.
+
+Mr. Cargreen had become white, or rather, the color of dough. After a
+moment he recovered himself somewhat, and, turning to Scantlebray,
+with a sarcastic air, said--
+
+"I hope _you_ enjoy the jessamine. They don't smell particularly sweet
+to me."
+
+"Orful!" groaned Scantlebray. He shook himself--almost shaking off all
+his limbs in the convulsion--"Old man--them jessamines is orful!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE CAVE.
+
+
+Some weeks slipped by without bringing to Judith any accession of
+anxiety. She did not go again to Pentyre Glaze, but her aunt came once
+or twice in the week to Polzeath to see her. Moreover, Miss Dionysia's
+manner toward her was somewhat less contrary and vexatious, and she
+seemed to put on a conciliatory manner, as far as was possible for one
+so angular and crabbed. Gracious she could not be; nature had made it
+as impossible for her to be gracious in manner as to be lovely in face
+and graceful in movement.
+
+Moreover, Judith observed that her aunt looked at her with an
+expression of perplexity, as though seeking in her to find an answer
+to a riddle that vexed her brain. And so it was. Aunt Dunes could not
+understand the conduct of Coppinger toward Judith and her brother. Nor
+could she understand how a child like her niece could have faced and
+defied a man of whom she herself stood in abject fear. Judith had
+behaved to the smuggler in a way that no man in the whole countryside
+would have ventured to behave. She had thrown him at her feet, half
+killed him, and yet Cruel Coppinger did not resent what had been done;
+on the contrary, he went out of his way to interfere in the interest
+of the orphans. He was not the man to concern himself in other
+people's affairs; why should he take trouble on behalf of Judith and
+her brother? That he did it out of consideration for herself, Miss
+Trevisa had not the assurance to believe.
+
+Aunt Dunes put a few searching questions to Judith, but drew from her
+nothing that explained the mystery. The girl frankly told her of her
+visit to the Glaze and interview with the crippled smuggler, of his
+offer to her of some of his spoil, and of her refusal to receive a
+present from him. Miss Trevisa approved of her niece's conduct in this
+respect. It would not have befitted her to accept anything. Judith,
+however, did not communicate to her aunt the closing scene in that
+interview. She did not tell her that Coppinger had kissed her hand,
+nor his excuse for having done so, that he was offering homage to a
+queen.
+
+For one thing, Judith did not attach any importance to this incident.
+She had always heard that Coppinger was a wild and insolent man, wild
+and insolent in his dealings with his fellow-men, therefore doubtless
+still more so in his treatment of defenceless women. He had behaved to
+her in the rude manner in which he would behave to any peasant girl or
+sailor's daughter who caught his fancy, and she resented his act as an
+indignity, and his excuse for it as a prevarication. And, precisely,
+because he had offended her maidenly dignity, she blushed to mention
+it, even to her aunt, resolving in her own mind not to subject herself
+to the like again.
+
+Miss Trevisa, on several occasions, invited Judith to come and see her
+at Pentyre Glaze, but the girl always declined the invitation.
+
+Judith's estimate of Cruel Coppinger was modified. He could not be the
+utter reprobate she had always held him to be. She fully acknowledged
+that there was an element of good in the man, otherwise he would not
+have forgiven the injury done him, nor would he have interfered to
+protect her and Jamie from the fraud and extortion of the
+"dilapidators." She trusted that the stories she had heard of
+Coppinger's wild and savage acts were false, or overcolored. Her dear
+father had been misled by reports, as she had been, and it was
+possible that Coppinger had not really been the impediment in her
+father's way that the late rector had supposed.
+
+Jamie was happy. He was even, in a fashion, making himself useful. He
+helped Mr. Menaida in his bird-stuffing on rainy days; he did more, he
+ran about the cliffs, learned the haunts of the wild-fowl, ascertained
+where they nested, made friends with Preventive men, and some of those
+fellows living on shore, without any very fixed business, who rambled
+over the country with their guns, and from these he was able to obtain
+birds that he believed Mr. Menaida wanted. Judith was glad that the
+boy should be content, and enjoy the fresh air and some freedom. She
+would have been less pleased had she seen the companions Jamie made.
+But the men had rough good-humor, and were willing to oblige the
+half-witted boy, and they encouraged him to go with them shooting, or
+to sit with them in their huts.
+
+Jamie manifested so strong a distaste for books, and lesson time being
+one of resistance, pouting, tears, and failures, that Judith thought
+it not amiss to put off the resumption of these irksome tasks for a
+little while, and to let the boy have his run of holidays. She fancied
+that the loss of his father and of his old home preyed on him more
+than was actually the case; and believed that by giving him freedom
+till the first pangs were over, he might not suffer in the way that
+she had done.
+
+For a fortnight or three weeks Judith's time had been so fully engaged
+at the parsonage, that she could not have devoted much of it to Jamie,
+even had she thought it desirable to keep him to his lessons; nor
+could she be with him much. She did not press him to accompany her to
+the rectory, there to spend the time that she was engaged sorting her
+father's letters and memoranda, his account-books and collection of
+extracts made from volumes he had borrowed, as not only would it be
+tedious to him, but he would distract her mind. She must see that he
+was amused, and must also provide that he was not at mischief. She did
+take him with her on one or two occasions, and found that he had
+occupied himself in disarranging much that she had put together for
+the sale.
+
+But she would not allow him wholly to get out of the way of looking to
+her as his companion, and she abandoned an afternoon to him now and
+then, as her work became less arduous, to walk with him on the cliffs
+or in the lanes, to listen to his childish prattle, and throw herself
+into his new pursuits. The link between them must not be allowed to
+become relaxed, and, so far as in her lay, she did her utmost to
+maintain it in its former security. But, with his father's death, and
+his removal to Mr. Menaida's cottage, a new world had opened to Jamie;
+he was brought into association with men and boys whom he had hardly
+known by sight previously, and without any wish to disengage himself
+from his sister's authority, he was led to look to others as comrades,
+and to listen to and follow their promptings.
+
+"Come, Jamie," said Judith, one day. "Now I really have some hours
+free, and I will go a stroll with you on the downs."
+
+The boy jumped with pleasure, and caught her hand.
+
+"I may take Tib with me?"
+
+"Oh yes, certainly, dear."
+
+Tib was a puppy that had been given to Jamie by one of his new
+acquaintances.
+
+The day was fresh. Clouds driving before the wind, now obscuring the
+sun and threatening rain, then clearing and allowing the sun to turn
+the sea green and gild the land. Owing to the breeze the sea was
+ruffled and strewn with breakers shaking their white foam.
+
+"I am going to show you something I have found, Ju," said the boy.
+"You will follow, will you not?"
+
+"Lead the way. What is it?"
+
+"Come and see. I found it by myself. I shan't tell any one but you."
+
+He conducted his sister down the cliffs to the beach of a cove. Judith
+halted a moment to look along the coast with its mighty, sombre
+cliffs, and the sea glancing with sun or dulled by shadow to Tintagel
+Head standing up at the extreme point to the northeast, with the white
+surf lashing and heaving around it. Then she drew her skirts together,
+and descended by the narrow path along which, with the lightness and
+confidence of a kid, Jamie was skipping.
+
+"Jamie!" she said. "Have you seen?--there is a ship standing in the
+offing."
+
+"Yes; she has been there all the morning."
+
+Then she went further.
+
+The cove was small, with precipitous cliffs rising from the sand to
+the height of two to three hundred feet. The seagulls screamed and
+flashed to and fro, and the waves foamed and threw up their waters
+lashed into froth as white and light as the feathers on the gulls. In
+the concave bay the roar of the plunging tide reverberated from every
+side. Neither the voice of Jamie, when he shouted to his sister from
+some feet below, nor the barking of his little dog that ran with him,
+could be distinguished by her.
+
+The descent was rapid and rugged, yet not so precipitous but that it
+could be gone over by asses or mules. Evidence that these creatures
+had passed that way remained in the impression of their hoofs in the
+soil, wherever a soft stratum intervened between the harder shelves of
+the rock, and had crumbled on the path into clay.
+
+Judith observed that several paths--not all mule-paths--converged
+lower down at intervals in the way by which she descended, so that it
+would be possible, apparently, to reach the sand from various points
+in the down, as well as by the main track by which she was stepping to
+the beach.
+
+"Jamie!" called Judith, as she stood on the last shoulder of rock
+before reaching the beach over a wave-washed and smoothed surface.
+"Jamie! I can see that same ship from here."
+
+But her brother could not hear her. He was throwing stones for the dog
+to run after, and meet a wave as it rushed in.
+
+The tide was going out: it had marked its highest elevation by a bow
+of foam and strips of dark seaweed and broken shells. Judith stepped
+along this line, and picked out the largest ribbon of weed she could
+find. She would hang it in her bedroom to tell her the weather. The
+piece that had been wont to act as barometer was old, and, besides, it
+had been lost in the recent shift and confusion.
+
+Jamie came up to her.
+
+"Now, Ju, mind and watch me, or you will lose me altogether."
+
+Then he ran forward, with Tib dancing and yelping round him. Presently
+he scrambled up a shelf of rock inclined from the sea, and up after
+him, yelping, scrambled Tib. In a moment both disappeared over the
+crest.
+
+Judith went up to the ridge and called to her brother.
+
+"I cannot climb this, Jamie."
+
+But in another moment, a hundred yards to her right, round the
+extremity of the reef, came Tib and his master, the boy dancing and
+laughing, the dog ducking his head, shaking his ears, and, all but
+laughing also, evidently enjoying the fun as much as Jamie.
+
+"This way, Ju!" shouted the boy, and signed to his sister. She could
+not hear his voice, but obeyed his gestures. The reef ran athwart the
+top of the bay, like the dorsal, jagged ridge of a crocodile half
+buried in the sand.
+
+Judith drew her skirts higher and closer, as the sand was wet, and
+there were pools by the rock. Then, holding her ribbon of seaweed by
+the harsh, knotted root, torn up along with the leaf, and trailing it
+behind her, she followed her brother, reached the end of the rock,
+turned and went in the traces of Jamie and Tib in the sand parallel to
+her former course.
+
+Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, on the right hand there opened
+before her, in the face of the cliff, a cave, the entrance to which
+was completely masked by the ridge she had turned. Into this cave went
+Jamie with his dog.
+
+"I am not obliged to follow you there!" protested Judith; but he made
+such vehement signs to her to follow him that she good-humoredly
+obeyed.
+
+The cave ran in a long way, at first at no great incline, then it
+became low overhead, and immediately after the floor inclined rapidly
+upward, and the vault took a like direction. Moreover, light appeared
+in front. Here, to Judith's surprise, she saw a large boat, painted
+gray, furnished with oars and boat-hook. She was attached by a chain
+to a staple in the rock. Judith examined her with a little uneasiness.
+No name was on her.
+
+The sides of the cave at this point formed shelves, not altogether
+natural, and that these were made use of was evident, because on them
+lay staves of broken casks, a four-flanged boat-anchor, and some oars.
+Out of the main trunk cave branched another that was quite dark, and
+smaller; in this, Judith, whose eyes were becoming accustomed to the
+twilight, thought she saw the bows of a smaller boat, also painted
+gray.
+
+"Jamie!" said Judith, now in serious alarm; "we ought not to be here.
+It is not safe. Do--do come away at once."
+
+"Why, what is there to harm us?"
+
+"My dear, do come away." She turned to retrace her steps, but Jamie
+stopped her.
+
+"Not that way, Ju! I have another by which to get out. Follow me
+still."
+
+He led the way up the steep rubble slope, and the light fell fuller
+from above. The cave was one of those into which when the sea rolls
+and chokes the entrance, the compressed air is driven out by a second
+orifice.
+
+They reached a sort of well or shaft, at the bottom of which they
+stood, but it did not open vertically but bent over somewhat, so that
+from below the sky could not be seen, though the light entered. A
+narrow path was traced in the side, and up this Jamie and the dog
+scrambled, followed by Judith, who was most anxious to escape from a
+place which she had no doubt was one of the shelter caves of the
+smugglers--perhaps of Cruel Coppinger, whose house was not a mile
+distant.
+
+The ascent was steep, the path slippery in places, and therefore
+dangerous. Jamie made nothing of it, nor did the little dog, but
+Judith picked her way with care; she had a good steady head, and did
+not feel giddy, but she was not sure that her feet might not slide in
+the clay where wet with water that dripped from the sides. As she
+neared the entrance she saw that hartstongue and maidenhair fern had
+rooted themselves in the sheltered nooks of this tunnel.
+
+After a climb of a hundred feet she came out on a ledge in the face of
+the cliff above the bay, to see, with a gasp of dismay, her brother in
+the hand of Cruel Coppinger, the boy paralyzed with fear so that he
+could neither stir nor cry out.
+
+"What!" exclaimed the Captain, "you here?" as he saw Judith stand
+before him.
+
+The puppy was barking and snapping at his boots. Coppinger let go
+Jamie, stooped and caught the dog by the neck. "Look at me," said the
+smuggler sternly, addressing the frightened boy. Then he swung the dog
+above his head and dashed it down the cliffs; it caught, then rolled,
+and fell out of sight--certainly with the life beaten out of it.
+
+"This will be done to you," said he; "I do not say that I would do it.
+She"--he waved his hand toward Judith--"stands between us. But if any
+of the fifteen to twenty men who know this place and come here should
+chance to meet you as I have met you, he would treat you without
+compunction as I have treated that dog. And if he were to catch you
+below--you have heard of Wyvill, the Preventive man?--you would fare
+as did he. Thank your sister that you are alive now. Go on--that
+way--up the cliff." He pointed with a telescope he held.
+
+Jamie fled up the steep path like the wind.
+
+"Judith," said Coppinger, "will you stand surety that he does not tell
+tales?"
+
+"I do not believe he will say anything."
+
+"I do not ask you to be silent. I know you will not speak. But if you
+mistrust his power to hold his tongue, send him away--send him out of
+the country--as you love him."
+
+"He shall never come here again," said Judith, earnestly.
+
+"That is well; he owes his life to you."
+
+Judith noticed that Cruel Coppinger's left arm was no more in a sling,
+nor in bands.
+
+He saw that she observed this, and smiled grimly. "I have my freedom
+with this arm once more--for the first time to-day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+IN THE DUSK.
+
+
+"Kicking along, Mr. Menaida, old man?" asked Mr. Scantlebray, in his
+loud, harsh voice, as he shook himself inside the door of Uncle
+Zachie's workshop. "And the little 'uns? Late in life to become nurse
+and keep the bottle and pap-bowl going, eh, old man? How's the
+orphings? Eating their own weight of victuals at twopence-ha'penny a
+head, eh? My experience of orphings isn't such as would make a man
+hilarious, and feel that he was filling his pockets."
+
+"Sit you down, sir; you'll find a chair. Not that one, there's a dab
+of arsenical paste got on to that. Sit you down, sir, over against me.
+Glad to see you and have some one to talk to. Here am I slaving all
+day, worn to fiddlestrings. There's Squire Rashleigh, of Menabilly,
+must have a glaucous gull stuffed at once that he has shot; and
+there's Sir John St. Aubyn, of Clowance, must have a case of
+kittiwakes by a certain day; and an institution in London wants a
+genuine specimen of a Cornish chough. Do they think I'm a tradesman to
+be ordered about? That I've not an income of my own, and that I am
+dependent on my customers? I'll do no more. I'll smoke and play the
+piano. I've no time to exchange a word with any one. Come, sit down.
+What's the news?"
+
+"It's a bad world," said Mr. Scantlebray, setting himself into a
+chair. "That's to say, the world is well enough if it warn't for there
+being too many rascals in it. I consider it's a duty on all
+right-thinking men to clear them off."
+
+"Well, the world would be better if we had the making of it,"
+acquiesced Mr. Menaida. "Bless you! I've no time for anything. I like
+to do a bit of bird-stuffing just as a sort of relaxation after
+smoking, but to be forced to work more than one cares--I won't do it!
+Besides, it is not wholesome. I shall be poisoned with arsenic. I must
+have some antidote. So will you, sir--eh? A drop of real first-rate
+cognac?"
+
+"Thank you, sir--old man--I don't mind dipping a feather and drawing
+it across my lips."
+
+Jamie had been so frightened by the encounter with Cruel Coppinger
+that he was thoroughly upset. He was a timid, nervous child, and
+Judith had persuaded him to go to bed. She sat by him, holding his
+hand, comforting him as best she might, when he sobbed over the loss
+of his pup, and cheering him when he clung to her in terror at the
+reminiscence of the threats of the Captain to deal with him as he had
+with Tib. Judith was under no apprehension of his revisiting the cave;
+he had been too thoroughly frightened ever to venture there again. She
+said nothing to impress this on him; all her efforts were directed
+toward allaying his alarms.
+
+Just as she hoped that he was dropping off into unconsciousness, he
+suddenly opened his eyes, and said, "Ju."
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"I've lost the chain."
+
+"What chain, my pretty?"
+
+"Tib's chain."
+
+The pup had been a trouble when Jamie went with the creature through
+the village or through a farm-yard. He would run after and nip the
+throats of chickens. Tib and his master had got into trouble on this
+account; accordingly Judith had turned out a light steel chain,
+somewhat rusty, and a dog collar from among the sundries that
+encumbered the drawers and closets of the rectory. This she had given
+to her brother, and whenever the little dog was near civilization he
+was obliged to submit to the chain.
+
+Judith, to console Jamie for his loss, had told him that in all
+probability another little dog might be procured to be his companion.
+Alas! the collar was on poor Tib, but she represented to him that if
+another dog were obtained it would be possible to buy or beg a collar
+for him, supposing a collar to be needful. This had satisfied Jamie,
+and he was about to doze off, when suddenly he woke to say that the
+chain was lost.
+
+"Where did you lose the chain, Jamie?"
+
+"I threw it down."
+
+"Why did you do that?"
+
+"I thought I shouldn't want it when Tib was gone."
+
+"And where did you throw it? Perhaps it may be found again."
+
+"I won't go and look for it--indeed I won't." He shivered and clung to
+his sister.
+
+"Where was it? Perhaps I can find it."
+
+"I dropped it at the top--on the down when I came up the steps
+from--from that man, when he had killed Tib."
+
+"You did not throw it over the cliff?"
+
+"No--I threw it down. I did not think I wanted it any more."
+
+"I dare say it may be found. I will go and see."
+
+"No--no! Don't, Ju. You might meet that man."
+
+Judith smiled. She felt that she was not afraid of that man--he would
+not hurt her.
+
+As soon as the boy was asleep, Judith descended the stairs, leaving
+the door ajar, that she might hear should he wake in a fright, and
+entering the little sitting-room, took up her needles and wool, and
+seated herself quietly by the window, where the last glimmer of
+twilight shone, to continue her work at a jersey she was knitting for
+Jamie's use in the winter.
+
+The atmosphere was charged with tobacco-smoke, almost as much as that
+of the adjoining workshop. There was no door between the rooms; none
+had been needed formerly, and Mr. Menaida did not think of supplying
+one now. It was questionable whether one would have been an advantage,
+as Jamie ran to and fro, and would be certain either to leave the door
+open or to slam it, should one be erected. Moreover, a door meant
+payment to a carpenter for timber and labor. There was no carpenter in
+the village, and Mr. Menaida spent no more money than he was
+absolutely obliged to spend, and how could he on an annuity of fifty
+pounds.
+
+Judith dropped her woolwork in her lap and fell into meditation. She
+reviewed what had just taken place: she saw before her again
+Coppinger, strongly built, with his dark face, and eyes that glared
+into the soul to its lowest depths, illumining all, not as the sun,
+but as the lightning, and suffering not a thought, not a feeling to
+remain obscure.
+
+A second time had Jamie done what angered him, but on this occasion
+he had curbed his passion and had contented himself with a
+threat--nay, not even that--with a caution. He had expressly told
+Jamie, that he himself would not hurt him, but that he ran into danger
+from others.
+
+She was again looking at Coppinger as he spoke; she saw the changes in
+his face, the alterations of expression in his eyes, in his
+intonation. She recalled the stern, menacing tone in which he had
+spoken to Jamie, and then the inflexion of voice as he referred to
+her. A dim surmise--a surmise she was ashamed to allow could be
+true--rose in her mind and thrilled her with alarm. Was it possible
+that he _liked_ her--liked--she could, she would give even in thought
+no other term to describe that feeling which she feared might possibly
+have sprung up in his breast. That he liked her--after all she had
+done? Was that why he had come to the cottage the day after his
+accident? Was that what had prompted the strange note sent to her
+along with the keg of spirits to Uncle Zachie? Was that the meaning of
+the offer of the choice of all his treasures?--of the vehemence with
+which he had seized her hand and had kissed it? Was that the
+interpretation of those words of excuse in which he had declared her
+his queen? If this were so, then much that had been enigmatical in his
+conduct was explained--his interference with the valuers for
+dilapidations, the strange manner in which he came across her path
+almost whenever she went to the rectory. And this was the
+signification of the glow in his eyes, the quaver in his voice, when
+he addressed her.
+
+Was it so?--could it be so?--that he liked her?--he--Cruel
+Coppinger--_Cruel_ Coppinger--the terror of the country round--liked
+_her_, the weakest creature that could be found?
+
+The thought of such a possibility frightened her. That the wild
+smuggler-captain should hate her she could have borne with better than
+that he should like her. That she was conscious of a sense of pleased
+surprise, intermixed with fear, was inevitable, for Judith was a
+woman, and there was something calculated to gratify feminine pride in
+the presumption that the most lawless and headstrong man on the
+Cornish coast should have meant what he said when he declared himself
+her subject.
+
+These thoughts, flushing and paling her cheek, quickening and staying
+her pulse, so engrossed Judith that, though she heard the voices in
+the adjoining apartment, she paid no heed to what was said.
+
+The wind, which had been fresh all day, was blowing stronger. It
+battered at the window where Judith sat, as though a hand struck and
+brushed over the panes.
+
+"Hot or cold?" asked Uncle Zachie.
+
+"Thanky', neither. Water can be got everywhere, but such brandy as
+this, old man--only here."
+
+"You are good to say so. It is Coppinger's present to me."
+
+"Coppinger!--his very good health, and may he lie in clover to-morrow
+night. He's had one arm bound, I've seen; perhaps he may have two
+before the night grows much older."
+
+Mr. Menaida raised his brows.
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"I daresay not," said Scantlebray. "It's the duty of all right-minded
+men to clear the world of rascals. I will do my duty, please the pigs.
+Would you mind--just another drop?"
+
+After his glass had been refilled, Mr. Scantlebray leaned back in his
+chair and said:
+
+"It's a wicked world, and, between you and me and the sugar dissolving
+at the bottom of my glass, you won't find more rascality anywhere than
+in my profession, and one of the biggest rascals in it is Mr.
+Cargreen. He's on the side against the orphings. If you've the faculty
+of pity in you, pity them--first, because they've him agin' 'em, and,
+secondly, because they've lost me as their protector. You know whom
+they got in place of me? I wish them joy of him. But they won't have
+his wing over them long, I can tell you."
+
+"You think not?"
+
+"Sure of it."
+
+"You think he'll throw it up?"
+
+"I rather suspect he won't be at liberty to attend to it. He'll want
+his full attention to his own consarns."
+
+Mr. Scantlebray tipped off his glass.
+
+"It's going to be a dirty night," said he. "You won't mind my spending
+an hour or two with you, will you?"
+
+"I shall be delighted. Have you any business in the place?"
+
+"Business--no. A little pleasure, maybe." After a pause, he said,
+"But, old man, I don't mind telling you what it is. You are mum, I
+know. It is this--the trap will shut to-night. Snap it goes, and the
+rats are fast. You haven't been out on the cliffs to-day, have you?"
+
+"No--bless me!--no, I have not."
+
+"The Black Prince is in the offing."
+
+"The Black Prince?"
+
+"Ay, and she will run her cargo ashore to-night. Now, I'm one who
+knows a little more than most. I'm one o' your straightfor'ard 'uns,
+always ready to give a neighbor a lift in my buggy, and a helping hand
+to the man that is down, and a frank, outspoken fellow am I to every
+one I meet--so that, knocking about as I do, I come to know and to
+hear more than do most, and I happen to have learnt into what cove the
+Black Prince will run her goods. I've a bone to pick with Captain
+Cruel, so I've let the Preventive men have the contents of my
+information-pottle, and they will be ready to-night for Coppinger and
+the whole party of them. The cutter will slip in between them and the
+sea, and a party will be prepared to give them the kindliest welcome
+by land. That is the long and short of it--and, old man, I shall
+dearly love to be there and see the sport. That is why I wish to be
+with you for an hour or two. Will you come as well?"
+
+"Bless me!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "not I! You don't suppose Coppinger
+and his men will allow themselves to be taken easily? There'll be a
+fight."
+
+"And pistols go off," said Scantlebray. "I shall not be surprised or
+sorry if Captain Cruel be washed up one of these next tides with a
+bullet through his head. Ebenezer Wyvill is one of the guards, and he
+has his brother's death to avenge."
+
+"Do you really believe that Coppinger killed him?"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray shrugged his shoulders. "It don't matter much what _I_
+think, to-night, but what the impression is that Ebenezer Wyvill
+carries about with him. I imagine that if Ebenezer comes across the
+Captain he won't speak to him by word of mouth, nor trouble himself to
+feel for a pair of handcuffs. So--fill my glass again, old man, and
+we'll drink to a cold bed and an indigestible lump--somewhere--in his
+head or in his gizzard--to Cruel Coppinger, and the wiping off of old
+scores--always a satisfaction to honest men." Scantlebray rubbed his
+hands. "It is a satisfaction to the conscience--to ferret out the rats
+sometimes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+WARNING OF DANGER.
+
+
+Judith, lost for awhile in her dreams, had been brought to a sense of
+what was the subject of conversation in the adjoining room by the
+mention of Coppinger's name more than once. She heard the desultory
+talk for awhile without giving it much attention, but Scantlebray's
+voice was of that harsh and penetrating nature that to exclude it the
+ears must be treated as Ulysses treated the ears of his mariners as he
+passed the rock of the Sirens.
+
+Presently she became alive to the danger in which Coppinger stood.
+Scantlebray spoke plainly, and she understood. There could be no doubt
+about it. The Black Prince belonged to the Captain, and his dealings
+with and through that vessel were betrayed. Not only was Coppinger, as
+the head of a gang of smugglers, an object worth capture to the
+Preventive men, but the belief that he had caused the death of at
+least one of their number had embittered them against him to such an
+extent that, when the opportunity presented itself to them of
+capturing him red-handed engaged in his smuggling transactions, they
+were certain to deal with him in a way much more summary than the
+processes of a court of a justice. The brother of the man who had been
+murdered was among the coast-guard, and he would not willingly let
+slip a chance of avenging the death of Jonas Wyvill. Coppinger was not
+in a condition to defend himself effectively. On that day for the
+first time, had he left off his bandages, and his muscles were stiff
+and the newly set bones still weak.
+
+What was to be done? Could Judith go to bed and let Coppinger run into
+the net prepared for his feet--go to his death?
+
+No sooner, however, had Judith realized the danger that menaced
+Coppinger than she resolved on doing her utmost to avert it. She, and
+she alone, could deliver him from the disgrace, if not the death, that
+menaced him.
+
+She stole lightly from the room and got her cloak, drew the hood over
+her head, and sallied forth into the night. Heavy clouds rolled over
+the sky, driven before a strong gale. Now and then they opened and
+disclosed the twilight sky, in which faintly twinkled a few stars, and
+at such times a dim light fell over the road, but in another moment
+lumbering masses of vapor were carried forward, blotting out the clear
+tract of sky, and at the same time blurring all objects on earth with
+one enveloping shadow.
+
+Judith's heart beat furiously, and timidity came over her spirit as
+she left the cottage, for she was unaccustomed to be outside the house
+at such an hour; but the purpose she had before her eyes gave her
+strength and courage. It seemed to her that Providence had suddenly
+constituted her the guardian angel of Coppinger, and she flattered
+herself that, were she to be the means of delivering him from the
+threatened danger, she might try to exact of him a promise to
+discontinue so dangerous and so questionable a business. If this night
+she were able to give him warning in time, it would be some return
+made for his kindness to her, and some reparation made for the injury
+she had done him. When for an instant there was a rift in the clouds,
+and she could look up and see the pure stars, it seemed to her that
+they shone down on her like angels' eyes, watching, encouraging, and
+promising her protection. She thought of her father--of how his mind
+had been set against Coppinger; now, she felt convinced, he saw that
+his judgment had been warped, and that he would bless her for doing
+that which she had set her mind to accomplish. Her father had been
+ever ready frankly to acknowledge himself in the wrong when he had
+been convinced that he was mistaken, and now in the light of eternity,
+with eyes undarkened by prejudice, he must know that he was in error
+in his condemnation of Coppinger, and be glad that his daughter was
+doing something to save that man from an untimely and bloody death.
+
+Not a soul did Judith meet or pass on her way. She had determined in
+the first case to go to Pentyre Glaze. She would see if Captain Cruel
+were there. She trusted he was at his house. If so, her course was
+simple; she would warn him and return to Mr. Menaida's cottage as
+quickly as her feet would bear her. The wind caught her cloak, and she
+turned in alarm, fancying that it was plucked by a human hand. No one,
+however, was behind her.
+
+In Pentyre lane it was dark, very dark. The rude half-walls,
+half-hedges stood up high, walled toward the lane hedged with earth
+and planted with thorns toward the field. The wind hissed through the
+bushes; there was an ash tree by a gate. One branch sawed against
+another, producing a weird, even shrill sound like a cry.
+
+The way led past a farm, and she stole along before it with the utmost
+fear as she heard the dog in the yard begin to bark furiously, and as
+she believed that it was not chained up, might rush forth at her. It
+might fall upon her, and hold her there till the farmer came forth and
+found her, and inquired into the reason of her being there at night.
+If found and recognized, what excuse could she give? What explanation
+could satisfy the inquisitive?
+
+She did not breathe freely till she had come out on the down; the dog
+was still barking, but, as he had not pursued her, she was satisfied
+that he was not at large. Her way now lay for a while over open
+common, and then again entered a lane between the hedges that enclosed
+the fields and meadows of the Glaze.
+
+A dense darkness fell over the down, and Judith for a while was
+uncertain of her way, the track being undistinguishable from the short
+turf on either side. Suddenly she saw some flashes of light that ran
+along the ground and then disappeared.
+
+"This is the road," said a voice.
+
+Judith's heart stood still, and her blood curdled in her veins. If the
+cloud were to roll away--and she could see far off its silvery fringe,
+she would become visible. The voice was that of a man, but whether
+that of a smuggler or of a coast-guard she could not guess. By neither
+did she care to be discovered. By the dim, uncertain light she stole
+off the path, and sank upon the ground among some masses of gorse that
+stood on the common. Between the prickly tufts she might lie, and in
+her dark cloak be mistaken for a patch of furze. She drew her feet
+under the skirt, that the white stockings might not betray her, and
+plucked the hood of her cloak closely round her face. The gorse was
+sharp, and the spikes entered her hands and feet, and pricked her as
+she turned herself about between the bushes to bring herself deeper
+among them.
+
+From where she lay she could see the faintly illumined horizon, and
+against that horizon figures were visible, one--then another--a
+third--she could not count accurately, for there came several
+together; but she was convinced there must have been over a dozen men.
+
+"It's a'most too rough to-night, I reckon," said one of the men.
+
+"No, it is not--the wind is not direct on shore. They'll try it."
+
+"Coppinger and his chaps are down in the cove already," said a third.
+"They wouldn't go out if they wasn't expecting the boats from the
+Black Prince."
+
+"You are sure they're down, Wyvill?"
+
+"Sure and sartain. I seed 'em pass, and mighty little I liked to let
+'em go by--without a pop from my pistol. But I'd my orders. No orders
+against the pistol going off of itself, Captain, if I have a chance
+presently?"
+
+No answer was given to this; but he who had been addressed as Captain
+asked--
+
+"Are the asses out?"
+
+"Yes; a whole score, I reckon."
+
+"Then they'll come up the mule path. We must watch that. Lieutenant
+Hanson will be ready with the cutter to run out and stop their way
+back by water to the Prince. The Prince's men will take to the sea,
+and he'll settle with them; but Coppinger's men will run up the
+cliffs, and we must tackle them. Go on."
+
+Several now disappeared into the darkness, moving toward the sea.
+
+"Here, a word with you, Wyvill," said the Captain.
+
+"Right, sir--here I be."
+
+"Dash it!--it is so dark! Here, step back--a word in your ear."
+
+"Right you are, sir."
+
+They came on to the turf close to where Judith crouched.
+
+"What is that?" said the Captain, hastily.
+
+"What, sir?"
+
+"I thought I trod on something like cloth. Have you a light?"
+
+"No, sir! Home has the dark lantern."
+
+"I suppose it is nothing. What is all that dark stuff there?"
+
+"I'll see, sir," said Wyvill, stooping, and with his hand. "By George,
+sir! it's naught but fuzz."
+
+"Very well, Wyvill--a word between us. I know that if you have the
+chance you intend to send a bullet into Coppinger. I don't blame you.
+I won't say I wouldn't do it--unofficially--but looky' here, man, if
+you can manage without a bullet--say a blow with the butt-end on his
+forehead and a roll over the cliffs--I'd prefer it. In self-defence of
+course we must use fire-arms. But there's some squeamish stomachs, you
+understand; and if it can come about accidentally, as it were--as if
+he'd missed his footing--I'd prefer it. Make it pleasant all around,
+if you can."
+
+"Yes, sir; leave it to me."
+
+"It oughtn't to be difficult, you know, Wyvill. I hear he's broke one
+arm, so is like to be insecure in his hold climbing the cliffs. Then
+no questions asked, and more pleasant, you know. You understand me?"
+
+"Yes, sir; thank you, sir."
+
+Then they went on, and were lost to sight and to hearing. For some
+minutes Judith did not stir. She lay, recovering her breath; she had
+hardly ventured to breathe while the two men were by her, the Captain
+with his foot on her skirt. Now she remained motionless, to consider
+what was to be done. It was of no further use her going on to Pentyre
+Glaze. Coppinger had left it. Wyvill, who had been planted as spy, had
+seen him with his carriers defile out of the lane with the asses that
+were to bring up the smuggled goods from the shore.
+
+She dare not take the path by which on the preceding afternoon she had
+descended with Jamie to the beach, for it was guarded by the
+Preventive men.
+
+There was but one way by which she could reach the shore and warn
+Coppinger, and that was by the chimney of the cave--a way dangerous in
+daylight, one, moreover, not easy to find at night. The mouth of the
+chimney opened upon a ledge that overhung the sea half-way down the
+face of the precipice, and this ledge could only be reached by a
+narrow track--a track apparently traced by sheep.
+
+Judith thought that she might find her way to that part of the down
+from which the descent was to be made; for she had noticed that what
+is locally called a "new-take" wall came near it, and if she could hit
+this wall, she believed she could trace it up to where it approached
+the cliff: and the track descended somewhere thereabouts. She waited
+where she lay till the heavy clouds rolled by, and for a brief space
+the sky was comparatively clear. Then she rose, and took the direction
+in which she ought to go to reach the "new-take" wall. As she went
+over the down, she heard the sea roaring threateningly; on her left
+hand the glint of the light-house on Trevose Head gave her the
+direction she must pursue. But, on a down like that, with a precipice
+on one hand, in a light, uncertain at best, often in complete
+darkness, it was dangerous to advance except by thrusting the foot
+forward tentatively before taking a step. The sea and the gnawing
+winds caused the cliffs to crumble; bits were eaten out of the
+surface, and in places there were fissures in the turf where a rent
+had formed, and where shortly a mass would fall.
+
+It is said that the duties on customs were originally instituted in
+order to enable the Crown to afford protection to trade against
+pirates. The pirates ceased to infest the seas, but the duties were
+not only taken off, but were increased, and became a branch of the
+public revenue. Perhaps some consciousness that the profits were not
+devoted to the purpose originally intended, bred in the people on the
+coast a feeling of resentment against the imposition of duties. There
+certainly existed an impression, a conviction rather, that the
+violation of a positive law of this nature was in no respect criminal.
+Adventurers embarked in the illicit traffic without scruple, as they
+did in poaching. The profit was great, and the danger run enhanced the
+excitement of the pursuit, and gave a sort of heroic splendor to the
+achievements of the successful smuggler.
+
+The Government, to stop a traffic that injured legitimate trade and
+affected the revenue, imposed severe penalties. Smuggling was classed
+among the felonies, "without benefit of clergy," the punishment for
+which was death and confiscation of goods. The consciousness that
+they would be dealt with with severity did not deter bold men from
+engaging in the traffic, but made them desperate in self-defence when
+caught. Conflicts with revenue officers were not uncommon, and lives
+were lost on both sides. The smugglers were not bound together by any
+link, and sometimes one gang was betrayed by another, so as to divert
+suspicion and attention from their own misdeeds, or out of jealousy,
+or on account of a quarrel. It was so on this occasion: the success of
+Coppinger, the ingenuity with which he had carried on his defiance of
+the law, caused envy of him, because he was a foreigner--was, at all
+events, not a Cornishman; this had induced a rival to give notice to
+the Revenue officers, through Scantlebray--a convenient go-between in
+a good many questionable negotiations. The man who betrayed Coppinger
+dared not be seen entering into communication with the officers of the
+law. He, therefore, employed Scantlebray as the vehicle through whom,
+without suspicion resting on himself, his rival might be fallen upon
+and his proceedings brought to an end.
+
+It was now very dark. Judith had reached and touched a wall; but in
+the darkness lost her bearings. The Trevose light was no longer
+visible, and directly she left the wall to strike outward she became
+confused as direction, and in the darkness groped along with her feet,
+stretching her hands before her. Then the rain came down, lashing in
+her face. The wind had shifted somewhat during the evening, and it was
+no guidance to Judith to feel from what quarter the rain drove against
+her. Moreover, the cove formed a great curve in the coast-line, and
+was indented deeply in some places, so that to grope round the edge
+without light in quest of a point only seen or noticed once, seemed a
+desperate venture. Suddenly Judith's foot caught. It was entangled,
+and she could not disengage it. She stooped, and put her hand on a
+chain. It was Jamie's steel dog-chain, one link of which had caught in
+a tuft of rest-harrow.
+
+She had found the spot she wanted, and now waited only till the rain
+had rushed further inland, and a fringe of light appeared in the sky,
+to advance to the very edge of the cliff. She found it expedient to
+stoop as she proceeded, so as to discover some indications of the
+track. There were depressions where feet had worn the turf, and she
+set hers therein, and sought the next. Thus, creeping and groping, she
+neared the edge.
+
+And now came the moment of supreme peril, when, trusting that she had
+found the right path, she must go over the brink. If she were
+mistaken, the next step would send her down two hundred feet, to where
+she heard the roar, and felt the breath of the sea stream up to her
+from the abyss. Here she could distinguish nothing; she must trust to
+Providence to guide her steps. She uttered a short and earnest prayer,
+and then boldly descended. She could not stoop now. To stoop was to
+dive headlong down. She felt her way, however, with her feet, reached
+one firm station, then another. Her hands touched the grass and earth
+of the ragged margin, then with another step she was below it, and
+held to the rain-splashed fangs of rock.
+
+Clinging, with her face inward, feeling with her feet, and never sure
+but that the next moment might see her launched into air, she stole
+onward, slowly, cautiously, and ever with the gnawing dread in her
+heart lest she should be too late. One intense point of consciousness
+stood out in her brain--it told her that if, while thus creeping down,
+there should come the flash and explosion of fire-arms, her courage
+would fail, her head would spin, and she would be lost.
+
+How long she was descending she could not tell, how many steps she
+took was unknown to her--she had not counted--but it seemed to her an
+entire night that passed, with every change of position an hour was
+marked; then, at last, she was conscious that she stood on more level
+ground. She had reached the terrace.
+
+A little further, and on her left hand, would open the mouth of the
+shaft, and she must descend that, in profoundest darkness. A cry! A
+light flashed into her eyes and dazzled her. A hand at the same moment
+clutched her, or she would have reeled back and gone over the cliff.
+
+The light was held to pour over her face. Who held it and who grasped
+her she could not see; but she knew the moment she heard a voice
+exclaim--
+
+"Judith!"
+
+In her terror and exhaustion she could but gasp for breath for a few
+moments.
+
+By degrees her firmness and resolution returned, and she exclaimed,
+in broken tones, panting between every few words--
+
+"Captain Cruel!--you are betrayed--they are after you!"
+
+He did not press her. He waited till she could speak again, lowering
+the lantern.
+
+Then, without the glare in her eyes, she was able to speak more
+freely.
+
+"There is a boat--a Revenue cutter--waiting in the
+bay--and--above--are the Preventive men--and they will kill you."
+
+"Indeed," said he. "And you have come to warn me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tell me--are there any above, where you came down!"
+
+"None; they are on the ass-path."
+
+"Can you ascend as you came down?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He extinguished his lantern, or covered it.
+
+"I must no more show light. I must warn those below." He paused, then
+said--
+
+"Dare you mount alone."
+
+"I came down alone."
+
+"Then do this one thing more for me. Mount, and go to Pentyre. Tell
+your aunt--three lights--red, white, red; then ten minutes, and then,
+red, red, white. Can you remember? Repeat after me: 'Three
+lights--red, white, red; then, ten minutes, and next, red, red, and
+white.'"
+
+Judith repeated the words.
+
+"That is right. Lose no time. I dare not give you a light. None must
+now be shown. The boat from the Black Prince is not in--this lantern
+was her guide. Now it is out she will go back. You will remember the
+signals? I thank you for what you have done. There is but one woman
+would have done it, and that Judith."
+
+He stepped inside the shaft to descend. When hidden, he allowed his
+light again to show, to assist him in his way down. Judith only waited
+till her eyes, that had been dazzled by the light, were recovered, and
+then she braced herself to resume her climb; but now it was to be up
+the cliff.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+CHAINED.
+
+
+To ascend is easier than to go down. Judith was no longer alarmed.
+There was danger still, that was inevitable; but the danger was as
+nothing now to what it had been. It is one thing to descend in total
+darkness into an abyss where one knows that below are sharp rocks, and
+a drop of two hundred feet to a thundering, raging sea, racing up the
+sand, pouring over the shelves of rock, foaming where divided waves
+clash. When Judith had been on the beach in the afternoon the tide was
+out; now it was flowing, and had swept over all that tract of white
+sand and pebble where she had walked. She could not indeed now see the
+water, but she heard the thud of a billow as it smote a rock, the boil
+and the hiss of the waves and spray. To step downward, groping the
+way, with a depth and a wild-throbbing sea beneath, demanded courage,
+and courage of no mean order; but it was other to mount, to be able to
+feel with the foot the ascent in the track, and to grope upward with
+the hand from one point of clutch to another, to know that every step
+upward was lessening the peril, and bringing nearer to the sward and
+to safety.
+
+Without great anxiety, therefore, Judith turned to climb. Cruel
+Coppinger had allowed her to essay it unaided. Would he have done that
+had he thought it involved danger, or, rather, serious danger? Judith
+was sure he would not. His confidence that she could climb to the
+summit unassisted made her confident. As she had descended she had
+felt an interior qualm and sinking at every step she took; there was
+no such sensation now as she mounted.
+
+She was not much inconvenienced by the wind, for the wind was not
+directly on shore; but it soughed about her, and eddies caught her
+cloak and jerked it. It would have been better had she left her cloak
+above on the turf. It incommoded her in her climb; it caught in the
+prongs of rock.
+
+The rain, the water running off the rock, had wet her shoes, soaked
+them, and every step was in moisture that oozed out of them. She was
+glad now to rest on her right hand. In descending, the left had felt
+and held the rock, and it had been rubbed and cut. Probably it was
+bleeding.
+
+Surely there was a little more light in the sky where the sky showed
+between the dense masses of vapor. Judith did not observe this, for
+she did not look aloft; but she could see a steely tract of sea,
+fretted into foam, reflecting an illumination from above, greater than
+the twilight could cast. Then she remembered that there had been a
+moon a few nights before, and thought that it was probably risen by
+this time.
+
+Something chill and wet brushed her face. It startled her for a
+moment, and then she knew by the scent that it was a bunch of samphire
+growing out of the side of the crag.
+
+Shrill in her ear came the scream of a gull that rushed by in the
+darkness, and she felt, or believed she felt, the fan from the wings.
+Again it screamed, and near the ear it pierced her brain like an awl,
+and then again, still nearer, unnerving her. In the darkness she
+fancied that this gull was about to attack her with beak and claws,
+and she put up her left arm as a protection to her eyes. Then there
+broke out a jabber of sea-birds' voices, laughing mockingly, at a
+little distance.
+
+Whither had she got!
+
+The way was no longer easy--one step before another--there was a break
+of continuity in the path, if path the track could be called.
+
+Judith stood still, and put forward her foot to test the rock in
+front. There was no place where it could rest. Had she, bewildered by
+that gull, diverged from the track? It would be well to retreat a few
+steps. She endeavored to do this, and found that she encountered a
+difficulty in finding the place where she had just planted her foot.
+
+It was but too certain that she was off the track line. How to recover
+it she knew not. With the utmost difficulty she did reach a point in
+her rear where she could stand, clinging to the rock; but she clung
+now with both hands. There was no tuft of samphire to brush her face
+as she descended. She must have got wrong before she touched that. But
+where was the samphire? She cautiously felt along the surface of the
+crag in quest of it, but could not find it. There was, however, a
+little above her shoulder, a something that felt like a ledge, and
+which might be the track. If she had incautiously crept forward at a
+level without ascending rapidly enough, she was probably below the
+track. Could she climb to this point--climb up the bare rock, with
+sheer precipice below her? And, supposing that the shelf she felt with
+her hand were not the track, could she descend again to the place
+where she had been?
+
+Her brain spun. She lost all notion as to where she might be--perhaps
+she was below the path, perhaps she was above it. She could not tell.
+She stood with arms extended, clinging to the rock, and her heart beat
+in bounds against the flinty surface. The clasp of her cloak was
+pressing on her throat, and strangling her. The wind had caught the
+garment, and was playing with the folds, carrying it out and flapping
+it behind her over the gulf. It was irksome; it was a danger to her.
+She cautiously slid one hand to her neck, unhasped the mantle, and it
+was snatched from her shoulders and carried away. She was lighter
+without it, could move with greater facility; cold she was not, wet
+she might become, but what mattered that if she could reach the top of
+the cliff?
+
+Not only on her own account was Judith alarmed. She had undertaken a
+commission. She had promised to bear a message to her aunt from
+Coppinger that concerned the safety of his men. What the signal meant
+she did not know, but suspected that it conveyed a message of danger.
+
+She placed both her hands on the ledge, and felt with her knee for
+some point on which to rest it, to assist her in lifting herself from
+where she stood to the higher elevation. There was a small projection,
+and after a moment's hesitation she drew her foot from the shelf
+whereon it had rested and leaned the left knee on this hunch. Then she
+clung with both hands, and with them and her knee endeavored to heave
+herself up about four feet, that is, to the height of her shoulders. A
+convulsive quiver seized on her muscles. She was sustained by a knee
+and her hands only. If they gave way she could not trust to recover
+her previous lodgement place. One desperate strain, and she was on the
+ledge, on both knees, and was feeling with her hands to ascertain if
+she had found the track. Her fingers touched thrift and passed over
+turf. She had not reached what she sought. She was probably farther
+from it than before. As all her members were quivering after the
+effort, she seated herself on the shelf she had reached, leaned back
+against the wet rock, and waited till her racing pulses had recovered
+evenness of flow, and her muscles had overcome the first effects of
+their tension.
+
+Her position was desperate. Rain and perspiration mingled dripped from
+her brow, ran over and blinded her eyes. Her breath came in sobs
+between her parted lips. Her ears were full of the booming of the
+surge far below, and the scarcely less noisy throb of her blood in her
+pulses.
+
+When she had started on her adventurous expedition she had seen some
+stars that had twinkled down on her, and had appeared to encourage
+her. Now, not a star was visible, only, far off on the sea, a wan
+light that fell through a rent in the black canopy over an angry deep.
+Beyond that all was darkness, between her and that all was darkness.
+
+As she recovered her self-possession, with the abatement of the tumult
+in her blood she was able to review her position, and calculate her
+chances of escape from it.
+
+Up the track from the cave the smugglers would almost certainly
+escape, because that was the only way, unwatched, by which they could
+leave the beach without falling into the hands of the Preventive men.
+
+If they came by the path--that path could not be far off, though in
+which direction it lay she could not guess. She would call, and then
+Coppinger or some of his men would come to her assistance.
+
+By this means alone could she escape. There was nothing for her to do
+but to wait.
+
+She bent forward and looked down. She might have been looking into a
+well; but a little way out she could see, or imagine she saw, the
+white fringes of surf stealing in. There was not sufficient light for
+her to be certain whether she really saw foam, or whether her fancy,
+excited by the thunder of the tide, made her suppose she saw it.
+
+The shelf she occupied was narrow and inclined; if she slipped from it
+she could not trust to maintain herself on the lower shelf, certainly
+not if she slid down in a condition of unconsciousness. And now
+reaction after the strain was setting in, and she feared lest she
+might faint. In her pocket was the dog-chain that had caught her foot.
+She extracted that now, and groping along the wall of rock behind her,
+caught a stout tuft of coarse heather, wiry, well rooted; and she took
+the little steel chain and wound it about the branches and stem of the
+plant, and also about her wrist--her right wrist--so as to fasten her
+to the wall. That was some relief to her to know that in the event of
+her dropping out of consciousness there was something to hold her up,
+though that was only the stem of an erica, and her whole weight would
+rest on its rootlets. Would they suffice to sustain her? It was
+doubtful; but there was nothing else on which she could depend.
+
+Suddenly a stone whizzed past, struck the ledge, and rebounded. Then
+came a shower of earth and pebbles. They did not touch her, but she
+heard them clatter down.
+
+Surely they had been displaced by a foot, and that a foot passing
+above.
+
+Then she heard a shot--also overhead, and a cry. She looked aloft, and
+saw against the half-translucent vapors a black struggling figure on
+the edge of the cliff. She saw it but for an instant, and then was
+struck on the face by an open hand, and a body crashed on to the shelf
+at her side, rolled over the edge, and plunged into the gulf below.
+
+She tried to cry, but her voice failed her. She felt her cheek stung
+by the blow she had received. A feeling as though all the rock were
+sinking under her came on, as though she were sliding--not
+shooting--but sliding down, down, and the sky went up higher,
+higher--and she knew no more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+ON THE SHINGLE.
+
+
+The smugglers, warned by Coppinger, had crept up the path in silence,
+and singly, at considerable intervals between each, and on reaching
+the summit of the cliffs had dispersed to their own homes, using the
+precaution to strike inland first, over the "new-take" wall.
+
+As the last of the party reached the top he encountered one of the
+coast-guards, who, by the orders of his superior, was patrolling the
+down to watch that the smugglers did not leave the cove by any other
+path than the one known--that up and down which donkeys were driven.
+This donkey-driving to the beach was not pursued solely for the sake
+of contraband; the beasts brought up loads of sand, which the farmers
+professed they found valuable as manure on their stiff soil, and also
+the masses of seaweed cast on the strand after a gale, and which was
+considered to be possessed of rare fertilizing qualities.
+
+No sooner did the coast-guard see a man ascend the cliff, or rather
+come up over the edge before him, than he fired his pistol to give the
+signal to his fellows, whereupon the smuggler turned, seized him by
+the throat, and precipitated him over the edge.
+
+Of this Coppinger knew nothing. He had led the procession, and had
+made his way to Pentyre Glaze by a roundabout route, so as to evade a
+guard set to watch for him approaching from the cliffs, should one
+have been so planted.
+
+On reaching his door, his first query was whether the signals had been
+made.
+
+"What signals?" asked Miss Trevisa.
+
+"I sent a messenger here with instructions."
+
+"No messenger has been here."
+
+"What, no one--not--" he hesitated, and said, "not a woman?"
+
+"Not a soul has been here--man, woman, or child--since you left."
+
+"No one to see you?"
+
+"No one at all, Captain."
+
+Coppinger did not remove his hat; he stood in the doorway biting his
+thumb. Was it possible that Judith had shrunk from coming to his house
+to bear the message? Yet she had promised to do so. Had she been
+intercepted by the Preventive men? Had--had she reached the top of the
+cliff? Had she, after reaching the top, lost her way in the dark,
+taken a false direction, and--Coppinger did not allow the thought to
+find full expression in his brain. He turned, without another word,
+and hastened to the cottage of Mr. Menaida. He must ascertain whether
+she had reached home.
+
+Uncle Zachie had not retired to bed; Scantlebray had been gone an
+hour; Zachie had drunk with Scantlebray, and he had drunk after the
+departure of that individual to indemnify himself for the loss of his
+company. Consequently Mr. Menaida was confused in mind and thick in
+talk.
+
+"Where is Judith?" asked Coppinger, bursting in on him.
+
+"In bed, I suppose," answered Uncle Zachie, after a while, when he
+comprehended the question, and had had time to get over his surprise
+at seeing the Captain.
+
+"Are you sure? When did she come in?"
+
+"Come in?" said the old man, scratching his forehead with his pipe.
+"Come in--bless you, I don't know; some time in the afternoon. Yes, to
+be sure it was, some time in the afternoon."
+
+"But she has been out to-night?"
+
+"No--no--no," said Uncle Zachie, "it was Scantlebray."
+
+"I say she has--she has been to--" he paused, then said--"to see her
+aunt."
+
+"Aunt Dunes! bless my heart, when?"
+
+"To-night."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"But I say she has. Come, Mr. Menaida. Go up to her room, knock at the
+door, and ascertain if she be back. Her aunt is alarmed--there are
+rough folks about."
+
+"Why, bless me!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "so there are. And--well,
+wonders'll never cease. How came you here! I thought the guard were
+after you. Scantlebray said so."
+
+"Will you go at once and see if Judith Trevisa is home?"
+
+Coppinger spoke with such vehemence, and looked so threateningly at
+the old man, that he staggered out of his chair, and, still holding
+his pipe, went to the stairs.
+
+"Bless me!" said he, "whatever am I about? I've forgot a candle. Would
+you oblige me with lighting one? My hand shakes, and I might light my
+fingers by mistake."
+
+After what seemed to Coppinger to be an intolerable length of time,
+Uncle Zachie stumbled down the stairs again.
+
+"I say," said Mr. Menaida, standing on the steps, "Captain--did you
+ever hear about Tincombe Lane?--
+
+    'Tincombe Lane is all up-hill,
+      Or down hill, as you take it;
+    You tumble up and crack your crown,
+      Or tumble down and break it.'
+
+--It's the same with these blessed stairs. Would you mind lending me a
+hand? By the powers, the banister is not firm! Do you know how it goes
+on?--
+
+    'Tincombe Lane is crooked and straight
+      As pot-hook or as arrow.
+    'Tis smooth to foot, 'tis full of rut,
+      'Tis wide and then 'tis narrow.'
+
+--Thank you, sir, thank you. Now take the candle. Bah! I've broke my
+pipe--and then comes the moral--
+
+    'Tincombe Lane is just like life
+      From when you leave your mother,
+    'Tis sometimes this, 'tis sometimes that,
+      'Tis one thing or the other.'"
+
+In vain had Coppinger endeavored to interrupt the flow of words, and
+to extract from thick Zachie the information he needed, till the old
+gentleman was back in his chair.
+
+Then Uncle Zachie observed--"Blessy'--I said so--I said so a thousand
+times. No--she's not there. Tell Aunt Dunes so. Will you sit down and
+have a drop? The night is rough, and it will do you good--take the
+chill out of your stomach and the damp out of your chest."
+
+But Coppinger did not wait to decline the offer. He turned at once,
+left the house, and dashed the door back as he stepped out into the
+night. He had not gone a hundred paces along the road before he heard
+voices, and recognized that of Mr. Scantlebray--
+
+"I tell you the vessel is the Black Prince, and I know he was to have
+unloaded her to-night."
+
+"Anyhow he is not doing so. Not a sign of him."
+
+"The night is too dirty."
+
+"Wyvill--" Coppinger knew that the Captain at the head of the
+coast-guard was speaking. "Wyvill, I heard a pistol-shot. Where is
+Jenkyns? If you had not been by me I should have said you had acted
+wide of your orders. Has any one seen Jenkyns?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+Suddenly a light flashed forth, and glared upon Coppinger. The Captain
+in command of the coast-guard uttered an oath.
+
+"You out to-night, Mr. Coppinger! Where do you come from?"
+
+"As you see--from Polzeath."
+
+"Humph! From no other direction?"
+
+"I'll trouble you to let me pass."
+
+Coppinger thrust the Preventive man aside, and went on his way.
+
+When he was beyond earshot, Scantlebray said--"I trust he did not
+notice me along with you. You see, the night is too dirty. Let him
+bless his stars, it has saved him."
+
+"I should like to see Jenkyns," said the officer. "I am almost certain
+I heard a pistol-shot; but when I sent in the direction whence it
+came, there was no one to be seen. It's a confounded dark night."
+
+"I hope they've not give us the slip, Captain?" said Wyvill.
+
+"Impossible," answered the officer. "Impossible. I took every
+precaution. They did not go out to-night. As Mr. Scantlebray says, the
+night was too dirty."
+
+Then they went on.
+
+In the meantime Coppinger was making the best of his way to the downs.
+He knew his direction even in the dark--he had the "new-take" wall as
+a guide. What the coast-guard did not suspect was that this "new-take"
+had been made for the very purpose of serving as a guide by which the
+smugglers could find their course in the blackest of winter's nights;
+moreover, in the fiercest storm the wall served as a shelter, under
+lea of which they might approach their cave. Coppinger was without a
+lantern. He doubted if one would avail him, in his quest; moreover,
+the night was lightening, as the moon rode higher.
+
+The smuggler captain stood for a moment on the edge of the cliffs to
+consider what course he should adopt to find Judith. If she had
+reached the summit, it was possible enough that she had lost her way
+and had rambled inland among lanes and across fields, pixy-led. In
+that case it was a hopeless task to search for her; moreover, there
+would be no particular necessity for him to do so, as, sooner or
+later, she must reach a cottage or a farm, where she could learn her
+direction. But if she had gone too near the edge, or if, in her
+ascent, her foot had slipped, then he must search the shore. The tide
+was ebbing now, and left a margin on which he could walk. This was the
+course he must adopt. He did not descend by the track to the chimney,
+as the creeping down of the latter could be effected in absolute
+darkness only with extreme risk; but he bent his way over the down
+skirting the crescent indentation of the cove to the donkey-path,
+which was now, as he knew, unwatched. By that he swiftly and easily
+descended to the beach. Along the shore he crept carefully toward that
+portion which was overhung by the precipice along which the way ran
+from the mouth of the shaft. The night was mending, or at all events
+seemed better. The moon, as it mounted, cast a glimmer through the
+least opaque portions of the driving clouds. Coppinger looked up, and
+could see the ragged fringe of down torn with gullies, and thrust up
+into prongs, black as ink against the gray of the half-translucent
+vapors. And near at hand was the long dorsal ridge that concealed the
+entrance to the cave, sloping rapidly upward and stretching away
+before him into shadow.
+
+Coppinger mused. If one were to fall from above, would he drop between
+the cliff and this curtain, or would he strike and be projected over
+it on to the shelving sand up which stole the waves? He knew that the
+water eddying against friable sandstone strata that came to the
+surface had eaten them out with the wash, and that the hard flakes of
+slate and ribs of quartz stood forth, overhanging the cave. Most
+certainly, therefore, had Judith fallen, her body must be sought on
+the sea-face of the masking ridge. The smuggler stood at the very
+point where in the preceding afternoon Jamie and the dog had scrambled
+up that fin-like blade of rock and disappeared from the astonished
+gaze of Judith. The moon, smothered behind clouds, and yet, in a
+measure self-assertive, cast sufficient light down into the cove to
+glitter on, and transmute into steel, the sea-washed and smoothed, and
+still wet, ridge, sloping inland as a seawall. As Coppinger stood
+looking upward he saw in the uncertain light something caught on the
+fangs of this saw-ridge, moving uneasily this way, then that,
+something dark, obscuring the glossed surface of the rock, as it might
+be a mass of gigantic sea-tangles.
+
+"Judith!" he cried. "Is that you?" and he plunged through the pool
+that intervened, and scrambled up the rock.
+
+He caught something. It was cloth. "Judith! Judith!" he almost
+shrieked in anxiety. That which he had laid hold of yielded, and he
+gathered to him a garment of some sort, and with it he slid back into
+the pool, and waded on to the pebbles. Then he examined his capture by
+the uncertain light, and by feel, and convinced himself that it was a
+cloak--a cloak with clasp and hood--just such as he had seen Judith
+wearing when he flashed his lantern over her on the platform at the
+mouth of the shaft.
+
+He stood for a moment, numbed as though he had been struck on the head
+with a mallet, and irresolute. He had feared that Judith had fallen
+over the edge, but he had hoped that it was not so. This discovery
+seemed to confirm his worst fears.
+
+If the cloak were there--she also would probably be there also, a
+broken heap. She who had thrown him down and broken him, had been
+thrown down herself, and broken also--thrown down and broken because
+she had come to rescue him from danger. Coppinger put his hand to his
+head. His veins were beating as though they would burst the vessels in
+his temples, and suffuse his face with blood. As he stood thus
+clasping his brow with his right hand, the clouds were swept for an
+instant aside, and for an instant the moon sent down a weird glare
+that ran like a wave along the sand, leaped impediments, scrambled up
+rocks, and flashed in the pools. For one moment only--but that
+sufficed to reveal to him a few paces ahead a black heap: there was no
+mistaking it. The rounded outlines were not those of a rock. It was a
+human body lying on the shingle half immersed in the pool at the foot
+of the reef!
+
+A cry of intensest, keenest anguish burst from the heart of Coppinger.
+Prepared though he was for what he must see by the finding of the
+cloak, the sight of that motionless and wrecked body was more than he
+could endure with composure. In the darkness that ensued after the
+moon-gleam he stepped forward, slowly, even timidly, to where that
+human wreck lay, and knelt on both knees beside it on the wet sand.
+
+He waited. Would the moon shine out again and show him what he dreaded
+seeing? He would not put down a hand to touch it. One still clasped
+his brow, the other he could not raise so high, and he held it against
+his breast where it had lately been strapped. He tried to hold his
+breath, to hear if any sound issued from what lay before him. He
+strained his eyes to see if there were any, the slightest movement in
+it. Yet he knew there could be none. A fall from these cliffs above
+must dash every spark of life out of a body that reeled down them. He
+turned his eyes upward to see if the cloud would pass; but no--it
+seemed to be one that was all-enveloping, unwilling to grant him that
+glimpse which must be had, but which would cause him acutest anguish.
+
+He could not remain kneeling there in suspense any longer. In
+uncertainty he was not. The horror was before him--and must be faced.
+
+He thrust his hand into his pocket and drew forth tinder-box and
+flint. With a hand that had never trembled before, but now shaking as
+with an ague, he struck a light. The sparks flew about, and were long
+in igniting the touchwood. But finally it was kindled, and glowed red.
+The wind fanned it into fitful flashes, as Coppinger, stooping, held
+the lurid spark over the prostrate form, and passed it up and down on
+the face. Then suddenly it fell from his hand, and he drew a gasp.
+The dead face was that of a bearded man.
+
+A laugh--a wild, boisterous laugh--rang out into the night, and was
+re-echoed by the cliff, as Coppinger leaped to his feet. There was
+hope still. Judith had not fallen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+FOR LIFE OR DEATH.
+
+
+Coppinger did not hesitate a moment now to leave the corpse on the
+beach where he had found it, and to hasten to the cave.
+
+There was a third alternative to which hitherto he had given no
+attention. Judith, in ascending the cliff, might have strayed from the
+track, and be in such a position that she could neither advance nor
+draw back. He would, therefore, explore the path from the chimney
+mouth, and see if any token could be found of her having so done.
+
+He again held his smouldering tinder and by this feeble glimmer made
+his way up the inclined beach within the cave, passed under the arch
+of the rock where low, and found himself in that portion where was the
+boat.
+
+Here he knew of a receptacle for sundries, such as might be useful in
+an emergency, and to that he made his way, and drew from it a piece of
+candle and a lantern. He speedily lighted the candle, set it in the
+lantern, and then ascended the chimney.
+
+On reaching the platform at the orifice in the face of the rock, it
+occurred to him that he had forgotten to bring rope with him. He would
+not return for that, unless he found a need for it. Rope there was
+below, of many yards length. Till he knew that it was required, it
+seemed hardly worth his while to encumber himself with a coil that
+might be too long or too short for use. He did not even know that he
+would find Judith. It was a chance, that was all. It was more probable
+that she had strayed on the down, and was now back at Polzeath, and
+safe and warm in bed.
+
+From the ledge in front of the shaft Coppinger proceeded with caution
+and leisure, exploring every portion of the ascent with lowered
+lantern. There were plenty of impressions of feet wherever the soft
+and crumbly beds had been traversed, and where the dissolved stone had
+been converted into clay or mud, but these were the impressions of the
+smugglers escaping from their den. Step by step he mounted, till he
+had got about half-way up, when he noticed, what he had not previously
+observed, that there was a point at which the track left the ledge of
+stratified vertical rock that had inclined its broken edge upward, and
+by a series of slips mounted to another fractured stratum, a leaf of
+the story-book turned up with the record of infinite ages sealed up in
+it. It was possible that one unacquainted with the course might grope
+onward, following the ledge instead of deserting it for a direct
+upward climb. As Coppinger now perceived, one ignorant of the way and
+unprovided with a light would naturally follow the shelf. He
+accordingly deserted the track, and advanced along the ledge. There
+was a little turf in one place, in the next a tuft of armeria, then
+mud or clay, and there--assuredly a foot had trodden. There was a mark
+of a sole that was too small to have belonged to a man.
+
+The shelf at first was tolerably broad, and could be followed without
+risk by one whose head was steady; but for how long would it so
+continue? These rough edges, these laminae of upheaved slate were
+treacherous--they were sometimes completely broken down, forming gaps,
+in places stridable, in others discontinuous for many yards.
+
+The footprints satisfied Coppinger that Judith had crept along this
+terrace, and so had missed the right course. It was impossible that
+she could reach the summit by this way--she must have fallen or be
+clinging at some point farther ahead, a point from which she could not
+advance, and feared to retreat.
+
+He held the lantern above his head, and peered before him, but could
+see nothing. The glare of the artificial light made the darkness
+beyond its radius the deeper and more impervious to the eye. He
+called, but received no answer. He called again, with as little
+success. He listened, but heard no other sound than the mutter of the
+sea, and the wail of the wind. There was nothing for him to do but to
+go forward; and he did that slowly, searchingly, with the light near
+the ground, seeking for some further trace of Judith. He was obliged
+to use caution, as the ledge of rock narrowed. Here it was hard, and
+the foot passing over it made no impression. Then ensued a rift and a
+slide of shale, and here he thought he observed indications of recent
+dislodgement.
+
+Now the foot-hold was reduced, he could no longer stoop to examine the
+soil; he must stand upright and hold to the rock with his right hand,
+and move with precaution lest he should be precipitated below.
+
+Was it conceivable that she had passed there?--there in the dark? And
+yet--if she had not, she must have been hurled below.
+
+Coppinger, clinging with his fingers, and thrusting one foot before
+the other, then drawing forward that foot, with every faculty on the
+alert, passed to where, for a short space, the ledge of rock expanded,
+and there he stooped once more with the light to explore. Beyond was a
+sheer fall, and the dull glare from his lantern showed him no
+continuance of the shelf. As he arose from his bent position, suddenly
+the light fell on a hand--a delicate, childish hand--hanging down. He
+raised the lantern, and saw her whom he sought. At this point she had
+climbed upward to a higher ledge, and on that she lay, one arm raised,
+fastened by a chain to a tuft of heather--her head fallen against the
+rock, and feet and one arm over the edge of the cliff. She was
+unconscious, sustained by a dog-chain and a little bunch of ling.
+
+Coppinger passed the candle over her face. It was white, and the eyes
+did not close before the light.
+
+His position was vastly difficult. She hung there chained to the
+cliff, and he doubted whether he could sustain her weight if he
+attempted to carry her back while she was unconscious, along the way
+he and she had come. It was perilous for one alone to move along that
+strip of surface; it seemed impossible for one to effect it bearing in
+his arms a human burden.
+
+Moreover, Coppinger was well aware that his left arm had not recovered
+its strength. He could not trust her weight on that. He dare not trust
+it on his right arm, for to return by the way he came the right hand
+would be that which was toward the void. The principal weight must be
+thrown inward.
+
+What was to be done? This, primarily: to release the insensible girl
+from her present position, in which the agony of the strain on her
+shoulder perhaps prolonged her unconsciousness.
+
+Coppinger mounted to the shelf on which she lay, and bowing himself
+over her, while holding her, so that she should not slip over the
+edge, he disentangled the chain from her wrist and the stems of the
+heather. Then he seated himself beside her, drew her toward him, with
+his right arm about her, and laid her head on his shoulder.
+
+And the chain?
+
+That he took and deliberately passed it round her waist and his own
+body, fastened it, and muttered, "For life or for death!"
+
+There, for a while, he sat. He had set the lantern beside him. His
+hand was on Judith's heart, and he held his breath, and waited to feel
+if there was pulsation there; but his own arteries were in such
+agitation, the throb in his finger ends prevented his being able to
+satisfy himself as to what he desired to know.
+
+He could not remain longer in his present position. Judith might never
+revive. She had swooned through over-exhaustion, and nothing could
+restore her to life but the warmth and care she would receive in a
+house; he cursed his folly, his thoughtlessness, in having brought
+with him no flask of brandy. He dared remain no longer where he was,
+the ebbing powers in the feeble life might sink beyond recall.
+
+He thrust his right arm under her, and adjusted the chain about him so
+as to throw some of her weight off the arm, and then cautiously slid
+to the step below, and, holding her, set his back to the rocky wall.
+
+So, facing the Atlantic Ocean, facing the wild night sky, torn here
+and there into flakes of light, otherwise cloaked in storm-gloom, with
+the abyss below, an abyss of jagged rock and shingle shore, he began
+to make his way along the track by which he had gained that point.
+
+He was at that part where the shelf narrowed to a foot, and his safety
+and hers depended largely on the power that remained to him in his
+left arm. With the hand of that arm he felt along and clutched every
+projecting point of rock, and held to it with every sinew strained and
+starting. He drew a long breath. Was Judith stirring on his arm?
+
+The critical minute had come. The slightest movement, the least
+displacement of the balance, and both would be precipitated below.
+
+"Judith!" said he, hoarsely, turning his head toward her ear.
+"Judith!"
+
+There was no reply.
+
+"Judith! For Heaven's sake--if you hear me--do not lift a finger. Do
+not move a muscle."
+
+The same heavy weight on him without motion.
+
+"Judith! For life--or death!"
+
+Then suddenly from off the ocean flashed a tiny spark--far, far away.
+
+It was a signal from the Black Prince.
+
+He saw it, fixed his eyes steadily on it, and began to move sideways,
+facing the sea, his back to the rock, reaching forward with his left
+arm, holding Judith in the right.
+
+"For life!"
+
+He took one step sideways, holding with the disengaged hand to the
+rock. The bone of that arm was but just knit. Not only so, but that of
+the collar was also recently sealed up after fracture. Yet the
+salvation of two lives hung on these two infirm joints. The arm was
+stiff; the muscles had not recovered flexibility, nor the sinews their
+strength.
+
+"For death!"
+
+A second sidelong step, and the projected foot slid in greasy marl. He
+dug his heel into the wet and yielding soil, he stamped in it; then,
+throwing all his weight on the left heel, aided by the left arm, he
+drew himself along and planted the right beside the left.
+
+He sucked the air in between his teeth with a hiss. The soft soil was
+sinking--it would break away. The light from the Black Prince seemed
+to rise. With a wrench he planted his left foot on rock--and drew up
+the right to it.
+
+"Judith! For life!"
+
+That star on the black sea--what did it mean? He knew. His mind was
+clear, and though in intense concentration of all his powers on the
+effort to pass this strip of perilous path, he could reason of other
+things, and knew why the Black Prince had exposed her light. The
+lantern that he had borne, and left on the shelf, had been seen by
+her, and she supposed it to be a signal from the terrace over the
+cave.
+
+The next step was full of peril. With his left foot advanced,
+Coppinger felt he had reached the shale. He kicked into it, and kicked
+away an avalanche of loose flakes that slid over the edge. But he
+drove his foot deep into the slope, and rammed a dent into which he
+could fix the right foot when drawn after it.
+
+"For death!"
+
+Then he crept along upon the shale.
+
+He could not see the star now. His sweat, rolling off his brow, had
+run over his eyelids and charged the lashes with tears. In partial
+blindness he essayed the next step.
+
+"For life!"
+
+Then he breathed more freely. His foot was on the grass.
+
+The passage of extreme danger was over. From the point now reached the
+ledge widened, and Coppinger was able to creep onward with less stress
+laid on the fractured bones. The anguish of expectation of death was
+lightened; and as it lightened nature began to assert herself. His
+teeth chattered as in an ague fit, and his breath came in sobs.
+
+In ten minutes he had attained the summit--he was on the down above
+the cliffs.
+
+"Judith," said he, and he kissed her cheeks and brow and hair. "For
+life--for death--mine, only mine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+UNA.
+
+
+When Judith opened her eyes, she found herself in a strange room, but
+as she looked about her she saw Aunt Dionysia with her hands behind
+her back looking out of the window.
+
+"Oh, aunt! Where am I!"
+
+Miss Trevisa turned.
+
+"So you have come round at last, or pleased to pretend to come round.
+It is hard to tell whether or not dissimulation was here."
+
+"Dissimulation, aunt?"
+
+"There's no saying. Young folks are not what they were in my day. They
+have neither the straightforwardness nor the consideration for their
+elders and betters."
+
+"But--where am I?"
+
+"At the Glaze; not where I put you, but where you have put yourself."
+
+"I did not come here, auntie, dear."
+
+"Don't auntie dear me, and deprive me of my natural sleep."
+
+"Have I?"
+
+"Have you not? Three nights have I had to sit up. And natural sleep is
+as necessary to me at my age as is stays. I fall abroad without one or
+the other. Give me my choice--whether I'd have nephews and nieces
+crawling about me or erysipelas, and I'd choose the latter."
+
+"But, aunt--I'm sorry if I am a trouble to you."
+
+"Of course you are a trouble. How can you be other? Don't burs stick?
+But that is neither here nor there."
+
+"Aunt, how came I to Pentyre Glaze!"
+
+"I didn't invite you, and I didn't bring you--you may be sure of that.
+Captain Coppinger found you somewhere on the down at night, when you
+ought to have been at home. You were insensible, or pretended to be
+so--it's not for me to say which."
+
+"Oh, aunt, I don't want to be here."
+
+"Nor do I want you here--and in my room, too. Hoity-toity! nephews and
+nieces are just like pigs--you want them to go one way and they run
+the other."
+
+"But I should like to know where Captain Coppinger found me, and all
+about it. I don't remember anything."
+
+"Then you must ask him yourself."
+
+"I should like to get up; may I?"
+
+"I can't say till the doctor comes. There's no telling--I might be
+blamed. I shall be pleased enough when you are shifted to your own
+room," and she pointed to a door.
+
+"My room, auntie?"
+
+"I suppose so; I don't know whose else it is."
+
+Then Miss Trevisa whisked out of the room.
+
+Judith lay quietly in bed trying to collect her thoughts and recall
+something of what had happened. She could recollect fastening her
+wrist to the shrub by her brother's dog-chain; then, with all the
+vividness of a recurrence of the scene--the fall of the man, the
+stroke on her cheek, his roll over and plunge down the precipice. The
+recollection made a film come over her eyes and her heart stand still.
+After that she remembered nothing. She tried hard to bring to mind one
+single twinkle of remembrance, but in vain. It was like looking at a
+wall and straining the eyes to see through it.
+
+Then she raised herself in bed to look about her. She was in her
+aunt's room, and in her aunt's bed. She had been brought there by
+Captain Coppinger. He, therefore, had rescued her from the position of
+peril in which she had been. So far she could understand. She would
+have liked to know more, but more, probably, her aunt could not tell
+her, even if inclined to do so.
+
+Where was Jamie? Was he at Uncle Zachie's? Had he been anxious and
+unhappy about her? She hoped he had got into no trouble during the
+time he had been free from her supervision. Judith felt that she must
+go back to Mr. Menaida's and to Jamie. She could not stay at the
+Glaze. She could not be happy with her ever-grumbling, ill-tempered
+aunt. Besides, her father would not have wished her to be there.
+
+What did Aunt Dunes mean when she pointed to a door and spoke of her
+room?
+
+Judith could not judge whether she were strong till she tried her
+strength. She slipped her feet to the floor, stood up and stole over
+the floor to that door which her aunt had indicated. She timidly
+raised the latch, after listening at it, opened and peeped into a
+small apartment. To her surprise she saw the little bed she had
+occupied at her dear home, the rectory, her old wash-stand, her
+mirror, the old chairs, the framed pictures that had adorned her
+walls, the common and trifling ornaments that had been arranged on her
+chimney-piece. Every object with which she had been familiar at the
+parsonage for many years, and to which she had said good-by, never
+expecting to have a right to them any more--all these were there,
+furnishing the room that adjoined her aunt's apartment.
+
+She stood looking around in surprise, till she heard a step on the
+stair outside, and, supposing it was that of Aunt Dionysia, she ran
+back to bed, and dived under the clothes and pulled the sheets over
+her golden head.
+
+Aunt Dunes entered the room, bringing with her a bowl of soup. Her eye
+at once caught the opened door into the little adjoining chamber.
+
+"You have been out of bed!"
+
+Judith thrust her head out of its hiding-place, and said, frankly,
+"Yes, auntie! I could not help myself. I want to see. How have you
+managed to get all my things together?"
+
+"I? I have had nothing to do with it."
+
+"But--who did it, auntie?"
+
+"Captain Coppinger; he was at the sale."
+
+"Is the sale over, aunt?"
+
+"Yes, whilst you have been ill."
+
+"Oh, I am so glad it is over, and I knew nothing about it."
+
+"Oh, exactly! Not a thought of the worry you have been to me; deprived
+of my sleep--of my bed--of my bed," repeated Aunt Dunes, grimly. "How
+can you expect a bulb to flower if you take it out of the earth and
+stick it on a bedroom chair stirring broth? I have no patience with
+you young people. You are consumed with selfishness."
+
+"But, auntie! Don't be cross. Why did Captain Coppinger buy all my
+dear crinkum-crankums?"
+
+Aunt Dionysia snorted and tossed her head.
+
+Judith suddenly flushed; she did not repeat the question, but said
+hastily, "Auntie, I want to go back to Mr. Menaida."
+
+"You cannot desire it more than I do," said Miss Trevisa, sharply.
+"But whether _he_ will let you go is another matter."
+
+"Aunt Dunes, if I want to go, I will go!"
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"I will go back as soon as ever I can."
+
+"Well, that can't be to-day, for one thing."
+
+The evening of that same day Judith was removed into the adjoining
+room, "her room," as Miss Trevisa designated it. "And mind you sleep
+soundly, and don't trouble me in the night. Natural sleep is as
+suitable to me as green peas to duck."
+
+When, next morning, the girl awoke, her eyes ranged round and lighted
+everywhere on familiar objects. The two mezzotints of Happy and
+Deserted Auburn, the old and battered pieces of Dresden ware, vases
+with flowers encrusted round them, but with most of the petals broken
+off--vases too injured to be of value to a purchaser, valuable to her
+because full of reminiscences--the tapestry firescreen, the painted
+fans with butterflies on them, the mirror blotched with damp, the
+inlaid wafer-box and ruler, the old snuffer-tray. Her eyes filled with
+tears. A gathering together into one room of old trifles did not make
+that strange room to be home. It was the father, the dear father, who,
+now that he was taken away, made home an impossibility, and the whole
+world, however crowded with old familiar odds and ends, to be desert
+and strange. The sight of all her old "crinkum-crankums," as she had
+called them, made Judith's heart smart. It was kindly meant by
+Coppinger to purchase all these things and collect them there; but it
+was a mistake of judgment. Grateful she was, not gratified.
+
+In the little room there was an ottoman with a woolwork cover
+representing a cluster of dark red, pink, and white roses; and at each
+corner of the ottoman was a tassel, which had been a constant source
+of trouble to Judith, as the tassels would come off, sometimes because
+the cat played with them, sometimes because Jamie pulled them off in
+mischief, sometimes because they caught in her dress. Her father had
+embroidered those dreadful roses on a buff ground one winter when
+confined to the house by a heavy cold and cough. She valued that
+ottoman for his sake, and would not have suffered it to go into the
+sale had she possessed any place she could regard as her own where to
+put it. She needed no such article to remind her of the dear
+father--the thought of him would be forever present to her without the
+assistance of ottomans to refresh her memory.
+
+On this ottoman, when dressed, Judith seated herself, and let her
+hands rest in her lap. She was better; she would soon be well; and
+when well would take the first opportunity to depart.
+
+The door was suddenly thrown open by her aunt, and in the doorway
+stood Coppinger looking at her. He raised his hand to his hat in
+salutation, but said nothing. She was startled and unable to speak. In
+another moment the door was shut again.
+
+That day she resolved that nothing should detain her longer than she
+was forced. Jamie--her own dear Jamie--came to see her, and the twins
+were locked in each other's arms.
+
+"Oh, Ju! darling Ju! You are quite well, are you not! And Captain
+Coppinger has given me a gray donkey instead of Tib; and I'm to ride
+it about whenever I choose!"
+
+"But, dear, Mr. Menaida has no stable, and no paddock."
+
+"Oh, Ju! that's nothing. I'm coming up here, and we shall be
+together--the donkey and you and me and Aunt Dunes!"
+
+"No, Jamie. Nothing of the sort. Listen to me. You remain at Mr.
+Menaida's. I am coming back."
+
+"But I've already brought up my clothes."
+
+"You take them back. Attend to me. You do not come here. I go back to
+Mr. Menaida's immediately."
+
+"But, Ju! you've got all your pretty things from the parsonage here!"
+
+"They are not mine. Mr. Coppinger bought them for himself."
+
+"But--the donkey?"
+
+"Leave the donkey here. Pay attention to my words. I lay a strict
+command on you. As you love me, Jamie, do not leave Mr. Menaida's;
+remain there till my return."
+
+That night there was a good deal of noise in the house. Judith's room
+lay in a wing, nevertheless she heard the riot, for the house was not
+large, and the sounds from the hall penetrated every portion of it.
+She was frightened, and went into Miss Trevisa's room.
+
+"Aunt! what is this dreadful racket about?"
+
+"Go to sleep--you cannot have every one shut his mouth because of
+you."
+
+"But what is it, auntie!"
+
+"It is nothing but the master has folk with him, if you wish
+particularly to know. The whole cargo of the Black Prince has been
+run, and not a finger has been laid by the coast-guard on a single
+barrel or bale. So they are celebrating their success. Go to bed and
+sleep. It is naught to you."
+
+"I cannot sleep, aunt. They are singing now."
+
+"Why should they not; have you aught against it? You are not mistress
+here, that I am aware of."
+
+"But, auntie, are there many down-stairs?"
+
+"I do not know. It is no concern of mine--and certainly none of
+yours."
+
+Judith was silenced for a while by her aunt's ill-humor; but she did
+not return to her room. Presently she asked--
+
+"Are you sure, aunt, that Jamie is gone back to Polzeath?"
+
+Miss Trevisa kicked the stool from under her feet, in her impatience.
+
+"Really! you drive me desperate. I did not bargain for this. Am I to
+tear over the country on post-horses to seek a nephew here and a niece
+there? I can't tell where Jamie is, and what is more, I do not care.
+I'll do my duty by you both. I'll do no more; and that has been forced
+on me, it was not sought by me. Heaven be my witness."
+
+Judith returned to her room. The hard and sour woman would afford her
+no information.
+
+In her room she threw herself on her bed and began to think. She was
+in the very home and head-quarters of contrabandism. But was smuggling
+a sin? Surely not that, or her father would have condemned it
+decidedly. She remembered his hesitation relative to it, in the last
+conversation they had together. Perhaps it was not actually a sin--she
+could recall no text in Scripture that denounced it--but it was a
+thing forbidden, and though she did not understand why it was
+forbidden, she considered that it could not be an altogether
+honorable and righteous traffic. Judith was unable to rest. It was not
+the noise that disturbed her so much as her uneasiness about Jamie.
+Had he obeyed her and gone back to Uncle Zachie? Or had he neglected
+her injunction, and was he in the house, was he below along with the
+revellers?
+
+She opened the door gently, and stole along the passage to the head of
+the stairs, and listened. She could smell the fumes of tobacco; but to
+these she was familiar. The atmosphere of Mr. Menaida's cottage was
+redolent of the Virginian weed. The noise was, however, something to
+which she was utterly unaccustomed: the boisterous merriment, the
+shouts, and occasional oaths. Then a fiddle was played. There was
+disputation, a pause, then the fiddle recommenced; it played a jig;
+there was a clatter of feet, then a roar of laughter--and then--she
+was almost sure she heard the voice of her brother.
+
+Regardless of herself, thinking only of him, without a moment's
+consideration, she ran down the stairs and threw open the door into
+the great kitchen or hall.
+
+It was full of men--wild, rough fellows--drinking and smoking; there
+were lights and a fire. The atmosphere was rank with spirits and
+tobacco; on a chair sat a sailor fiddling, and in the midst of the
+room, on a table, was Jamie dancing a jig, to the laughter and
+applause of the revellers.
+
+The moment Judith appeared silence ensued--the men were surprised to
+see a pale and delicate girl stand before them, with a crown of gold
+like a halo round her ivory-white face. But Judith took no notice of
+anyone there--her eyes were on her brother, and her hand raised to
+attract his attention. Judith had been in bed, but, disturbed by the
+uproar, had risen and drawn on her gown; her feet, however, were bare,
+and her magnificent hair poured over her shoulders unbound. Her whole
+mind, her whole care, was for Jamie; on herself not a thought rested;
+she had forgotten that she was but half clothed.
+
+"Jamie! Jamie!" she cried. "My brother! my brother!"
+
+The fiddler ceased, lowered his violin, and stared at her.
+
+"Ju, let me alone! It is such fun," said the boy.
+
+"Jamie! this instant you shall come with me. Get down off the table!"
+
+As he hesitated, and looked round to the men who had been applauding
+him for support against his sister, she went to the table, and caught
+him by the feet.
+
+"Jamie! in pity to me! Jamie! think--papa is but just dead."
+
+Then tears of sorrow, shame, and entreaty filled her eyes.
+
+"No, Ju! I'm not tied to your apron-strings," said the lad,
+disengaging himself.
+
+But in an instant he was caught from the table by the strong arm of
+Coppinger, and thrust toward the door.
+
+"Judith, you should not have come here."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Coppinger--and Jamie! why did you let him--"
+
+Coppinger drew the girl from the room into the passage.
+
+"Judith, not for the world would I have had you here," said he, in an
+agitated voice. "I'll kill your aunt for letting you come down."
+
+"Mr. Coppinger, she knew nothing of my coming. Come I must--I heard
+Jamie's voice."
+
+"Go," said the Captain, shaking the boy. He was ashamed of himself and
+angry. "Beware how you disobey your sister again."
+
+Coppinger's face was red as fire. He turned to Judith--
+
+"Your feet are bare. Let me carry you up-stairs--carry you once more."
+
+She shook her head. "As I came down so I can return."
+
+"Will you forgive me?" he said, in a low tone.
+
+"Heaven forgive you," she answered, and burst into tears. "You will
+break my heart, I foresee it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+A GOLDFISH.
+
+
+Next day--just in the same way as the day before--when Judith was
+risen and dressed, the door was thrown open, and again Coppinger was
+revealed, standing outside, looking at her with a strange expression,
+and saying no word.
+
+But Judith started up from her chair and went to him in the passage,
+put forth her delicate white hand, laid it on his cuff, and said: "Mr.
+Coppinger, may I speak to you?"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Where you like--down-stairs will be best, in the hall if no one be
+there."
+
+"It is empty."
+
+He stood aside and allowed her to precede him.
+
+The staircase was narrow, and it would have been dark but for a small
+dormer-window through which light came from a squally sky covered with
+driving white vapors. But such light as entered from a white and wan
+sun fell on her head as she descended--that head of hair was like the
+splendor of a beech-tree touched by frost before the leaves fall.
+
+Coppinger descended after her.
+
+When they were both in the hall, he indicated his arm-chair by the
+hearth for her to sit in, and she obeyed. She was weak, and now also
+nervous. She must speak to the smuggler firmly, and that required all
+her courage.
+
+The room was tidy; all traces of the debauch of the preceding night
+had disappeared.
+
+Coppinger stood a few paces from her. He seemed to know that what she
+was going to say would displease him, and he did not meet her clear
+eyes, but looked with a sombre frown upon the floor.
+
+Judith put the fingers of her right hand to her heart to bid it cease
+beating so fast, and then rushed into what she had to say, fearing
+lest delay should heighten the difficulty of saying it.
+
+"I am so--so thankful to you, sir, for what you have done for me. My
+aunt tells me that you found and carried me here. I had lost my way on
+the rocks, and but for you I would have died."
+
+"Yes," he said, raising his eyes suddenly and looking piercingly into
+hers, "but for me you would have died."
+
+"I must tell you how deeply grateful I am for this and for other
+kindnesses. I shall never forget that this foolish, silly, little life
+of mine I owe to you."
+
+Again her heart was leaping so furiously as to need the pressure of
+her fingers on it to check it.
+
+"We are quits," said Coppinger, slowly. "You came--you ran a great
+risk to save me. But for you I might be dead. So this rude and
+worthless--this evil life of mine," he held out his hands, both palms
+before her, and spoke with quivering voice--"I owe to you."
+
+"Then," said Judith, "as you say, we are quits. Yet no. If one account
+is cancelled, another remains unclosed. I threw you down and broke
+your bones. So there still remains a score against me."
+
+"That I have forgiven long ago," said he. "Throw me down, break me,
+kill me, do with me what you will--and--I will kiss your hand."
+
+"I do not wish to have my hand kissed," said Judith, hastily, "I let
+you understand that before."
+
+He put his elbow against the mantel-shelf, and leaned his brow against
+his open hand, looking down at her, so she could not see his face
+without raising her eyes, but he could rest his on her and study her,
+note her distress, the timidity with which she spoke, the wince when
+he said a word that implied his attachment to her.
+
+"I have not only to thank you, Captain Coppinger, but I have to say
+good-by."
+
+"What--go?"
+
+"Yes--I shall go back to Mr. Menaida to-day."
+
+He stamped, and his face became blood-red. "You shall not. I will
+it--here you stay."
+
+"It cannot be," said Judith, after a moment's pause to let his passion
+subside. "You are not my guardian, though very generously you have
+undertaken to be valuer for me in dilapidations. I must go, I and
+Jamie."
+
+He shook his head. He feared to speak, his anger choked him.
+
+"I cannot remain here myself, and certainly I will not let Jamie be
+here."
+
+"Is it because of last night's foolery you say that?"
+
+"I am responsible for my brother. He is not very clever; he is easily
+led astray. There is no one to think for him, to care for him, but
+myself. I could never let him run the risk of such a thing happening
+again."
+
+"Confound the boy!" burst forth Coppinger. "Are you going to bring him
+up as a milk-sop? You are wrong altogether in the way you manage him."
+
+"I can but follow my conscience."
+
+"And is it because of him that you go?"
+
+"Not because of him only."
+
+"But I have spoken to your aunt; she consents."
+
+"But I do not," said Judith.
+
+He stamped again, passionately.
+
+"I am not the man who will bear to be disobeyed and my will crossed. I
+say--Here you shall stay."
+
+Judith waited a moment, looking at him steadily out of her clear,
+glittering iridescent eyes, and said slowly, "I am not the girl to be
+obliged to stay where my common-sense and my heart say Stay not."
+
+He folded his arms, lowered his chin on his breast, and strode up and
+down the room. Then, suddenly, he stood still opposite her and asked,
+in a threatening tone:
+
+"Do you not like your room? Does that not please your humor?"
+
+"It has been most kind of you to collect all my little bits of rubbish
+there. I feel how good you have been, how full of thought for me; but,
+for all that, I cannot stay."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I have said, on one account, because of Jamie."
+
+He bit his lips--"I hate that boy."
+
+"Then most certainly he cannot be here. He must be with those who love
+him."
+
+"Then stay."
+
+"I cannot--I will not. I have a will as well as you. My dear papa
+always said that my will was strong."
+
+"You are the only person who has ever dared to resist me."
+
+"That may be; I am daring--because you have been kind."
+
+"Kind to you. Yes--to you only."
+
+"It may be so, and because kind to me, and me only, I, and I only,
+presume to say No when you say Yes."
+
+He came again to the fireplace and again leaned against the
+mantel-shelf. He was trembling with passion.
+
+"And what if I say that, if you go, I will turn old Dunes--I mean your
+aunt--out of the house?"
+
+"You will not say it, Mr. Coppinger; you are too noble, too generous,
+to take a mean revenge."
+
+"Oh! you allow there is some good in me?"
+
+"I thankfully and cheerfully protest there is a great deal of good in
+you--and I would there were more."
+
+"Come--stay here and teach me to be good--be my crutch; I will lean on
+you, and you shall help me along the right way."
+
+"You are too great a weight, Mr. Coppinger," said she, smiling--but it
+was a frightened and a forced smile. "You would bend and break the
+little crutch."
+
+He heaved a long breath. He was looking at her from under his hand and
+his bent brows.
+
+"You are cruel--to deny me a chance. And what if I were to say that I
+am hungry, sick at heart, and faint. Would you turn your back and
+leave me?"
+
+"No, assuredly not."
+
+"I am hungry."
+
+She looked up at him, and was frightened by the glitter in his eyes.
+
+"I am hungry for the sight of you, for the sound of your voice."
+
+She did not say anything to this, but sat, with her hands on her lap,
+musing, uncertain how to deal with this man, so strange, impulsive,
+and yet so submissive to her, and even appealing to her pity.
+
+"Mr. Coppinger, I have to think of and care for Jamie, and he takes up
+all my thoughts and engrosses all my time."
+
+"Jamie, again!"
+
+"So that I cannot feed and teach another orphan."
+
+"Put off your departure--a week. Grant me that. Then you will have
+time to get quite strong, and also you will be able to see whether it
+is not possible for you to live here. Here is your aunt--it is natural
+and right that you should be with her. She has been made your guardian
+by your father. Do you not bow to his directions."
+
+"Mr. Coppinger, I cannot stay here."
+
+"I am at a disadvantage," he exclaimed. "Man always is when carrying
+on a contest with a woman. Stay--stay here and listen to me." He put
+out his hand and pressed her back into the chair, for she was about to
+rise. "Listen to what I say. You do not know--you cannot know--how
+near death you and I--yes, you and I were, chained together." His deep
+voice shook. "You and I were on the face of the cliff. There was but
+one little strip, the width of my hand"--he held out his palm before
+her--"and that was not secure. It was sliding away under my feet.
+Below was death, certain death--a wretched death. I held you. That
+little chain tied us two--us two together. All your life and mine hung
+on was my broken arm and broken collar-bone. I held you to me with my
+right arm and the chain. I did not think we should live. I thought
+that together--chained together, I holding you--so we would die--so we
+would be found--and my only care, my only prayer was, if so, that so
+we might be washed to sea and sink together, I holding you and chained
+to you, and you to me. I prayed that we might never be found; for I
+thought if rude hands were laid on us that the chain would be
+unloosed, my arm unlocked from about you, and that we should be
+carried to separate graves. I could not endure that thought. Let us go
+down together--bound, clasped together--into the depths of the deep
+sea, and there rest. But it was not to be so. I carried you over that
+stage of infinite danger. An angel or a devil--I cannot say
+which--held me up. And then I swore that never in life should you be
+loosed from me, as I trusted that in death we should have remained
+bound together. See!" He put his hand to her head and drew a lock of
+her golden hair and wound it about his hand and arm. "You have me fast
+now--fast in a chain of gold--of gold infinitely precious to
+me--infinitely strong--and you will cast me off, who never thought to
+cast you off when tied to you with a chain of iron. What say you? Will
+you stand in safety on your cliff of pride and integrity and unloose
+the golden band and say, 'Go down--down. I know nothing in you to
+love. You are naught to me but a robber, a wrecker, a drunkard, a
+murderer--go down into Hell?'"
+
+In his quivering excitement he acted the whole scene, unconscious that
+he was so doing, and the drops of agony stood on his brow and
+rolled--drip--drip--drip from it. Man does not weep; his tears exude
+more bitter than those that flow from the eyes, and they distil from
+his pores.
+
+Judith was awed by the intensity of passion in the man, but not
+changed in her purpose. His vehemence reacted on her, calming her,
+giving her determination to finish the scene decisively and finally.
+
+"Mr. Coppinger," she said, looking up to him, who still held her by
+the hair wound about his hand and arm, "it is you who hold me in
+chains, not I you. And so I--your prisoner--must address a gaoler. Am
+I to speak in chains, or will you release me?"
+
+He shook his head, and clenched his hand on the gold hair.
+
+"Very well," said she, "so it must be; I, bound, plead my cause with
+you--at a disadvantage. This is what I must say at the risk of hurting
+you; and, Heaven be my witness, I would not wound one who has been so
+good to me--one to whom I owe my life, my power now to speak and
+entreat." She paused a minute to gain breath and strengthen herself
+for what she had to say.
+
+"Mr. Coppinger--do you not yourself see that it is quite impossible
+that I should remain in this house--that I should have anything more
+to do with you? Consider how I have been brought up--what my thoughts
+have been. I have had, from earliest childhood, my dear papa's example
+and teachings, sinking into my heart till they have colored my very
+life-blood. My little world and your great one are quite different.
+What I love and care for is folly to you, and your pursuits and
+pleasures are repugnant to me. You are an eagle--a bird of prey."
+
+"A bird of prey," repeated Coppinger.
+
+"And you soar and fight, and dive, and rend in your own element;
+whereas I am a little silver trout----"
+
+"No"--he drew up his arm wound round with her hair--"No--a goldfish."
+
+"Well, so be it; a goldfish swimming in my own crystal element, and
+happy in it. You would not take me out of it to gasp and die. Trust
+me, Captain Coppinger, I could not--even if I would--live in your
+world."
+
+She put up her hands to his arm and drew some of the hair through his
+fingers, and unwound it from his sleeve. He made no resistance. He
+watched her, in a dream. He had heard every word she had said, and he
+knew that she spoke the truth. They belonged to different realms of
+thought and sensation. He could not breathe--he would stifle--in hers,
+and it was possible--it was certain--that she could not endure the
+strong, rough quality of his.
+
+Her delicate fingers touched his hand, and sent a spasm to his heart.
+She was drawing away another strand of hair, and untwisting it from
+about his arm, passing the wavy, fire-gold from one hand to the other.
+And as every strand was taken off, so went light and hope from him,
+and despair settled down on his dark spirit.
+
+He was thinking whether it would not have been better to have thrown
+himself down when he had her in his arms, and bound to him by the
+chain.
+
+Then he laughed.
+
+She looked up, and caught his wild eye. There was a timid inquiry in
+her look, and he answered it.
+
+"You may unwind your hair from my arm, but it is woven round and round
+my heart, and you cannot loose it thence."
+
+She drew another strand away, and released that also from his arm.
+There remained now but one red-gold band of hair fastening her to him.
+He looked entreatingly at her, and then at the hair.
+
+"It must indeed be so," she said, and released herself wholly.
+
+Then she stood up, a little timidly, for she could not trust him in
+his passion and his despair. But he did not stir; he looked at her
+with fixed, dreamy eyes. She left her place, and moved toward the
+door. She had gone forth from Mr. Menaida's without hat or other cover
+for her head than the cloak with its hood, and that she had lost. She
+must return bare-headed. She had reached the door; and there she waved
+him a farewell.
+
+"Goldfish!" he cried.
+
+She halted.
+
+"Goldfish, come here; one--one word only."
+
+She hesitated whether to yield. The man was dangerous. But she
+considered that with a few strides he might overtake her if she tried
+to escape. Therefore she returned toward him, but came not near enough
+for him to touch her.
+
+"Hearken to me," said he. "It may be as you say. It is as you say. You
+have your world; I have mine. You could not live in mine, nor I in
+yours." But his voice thrilled. "Swear to me--swear to me now--that
+while I live no other shall hold you, as I would have held you, to his
+side; that no other shall take your hair and wind it round him, as I
+have--I could not endure that. Will you swear to me that?--and you
+shall go."
+
+"Indeed I will; indeed, indeed I will."
+
+"Beware how you break this oath. Let him beware who dares to seek
+you." He was silent, looking on the ground, his arms folded. So he
+stood for some minutes, lost in thought. Then suddenly he cried out,
+"Goldfish!"
+
+He had found a single hair, long--a yard long--of the most intense
+red-gold, lustrous as a cloud in the west over the sunken sun. It had
+been left about his arm and hand.
+
+"Goldfish!"
+
+But she was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+BOUGHT AND SOLD.
+
+
+Cruel Coppinger remained brooding in the place where he had been
+standing, and as he stood there his face darkened. He was a man of
+imperious will and violent passions; a man unwont to curb himself;
+accustomed to sweep out of his path whoever or whatever stood between
+him and the accomplishment of his purpose; a man who never asked
+himself whether that purpose were good or bad. He had succumbed, in a
+manner strange and surprising to himself, to the influence of
+Judith--a sort of witchery over him that subdued his violence and awed
+him into gentleness and modesty. But when her presence was withdrawn
+the revolt of the man's lawless nature began. Who was this who had
+dared to oppose her will to his? a mere child of eighteen. Women were
+ever said to be a perverse generation, and loved to domineer over men;
+and man was weak to suffer it. So thinking, chafing, he had worked
+himself into a simmering rage when Miss Trevisa entered the hall,
+believing it to be empty. Seeing him, she was about to withdraw, when
+he shouted to her to stay.
+
+"I beg your pardon for intruding, sir; I am in quest of my niece.
+Those children keep me in a whirl like a teetotum."
+
+"Your niece is gone."
+
+"Gone! where to?"
+
+"Back--I suppose to that old fool, Menaida. He is meet to be a
+companion for her and that idiot, her brother; not I--I am to be
+spurned from her presence."
+
+Miss Trevisa was surprised, but she said nothing. She knew his moods.
+
+"Stand there, Mother Dunes!" said Coppinger, in his anger and
+humiliation, glad to have some one on whom he could pour out the lava
+that boiled up in his burning breast. "Listen to me. She has told me
+that we belong to different worlds--she and I--and to different races,
+kinds of being, and that there can be no fellowship betwixt us. Where
+I am she will not be. Between me and you there is a great gulf
+fixed--see you? and I am as Dives tormented in my flame, and she
+stands yonder, serene, in cold and complacent blessedness, and will
+not cross to me with her finger dipped in cold water to cool my
+tongue; and as for my coming near to her"--he laughed fiercely--"that
+can never be."
+
+"Did she say all that?" asked Miss Trevisa.
+
+"She looked it; she implied it, if she did not say it in these naked
+words. And, what is more," shouted he, coming before Aunt Dionysia,
+threateningly, so that she recoiled, "it is true. When she sat there
+in yonder chair, and I stood here by this hearthstone, and she spoke,
+I knew it was true; I saw it all--the great gulf unspanned by any
+bridge. I knew that none could ever bridge it, and there we were,
+apart for ever, I in my fire burning, she in Blessedness--indifferent."
+
+"I am very sorry," said Miss Trevisa, "that Judith should so have
+misconducted herself. My brother brought her up in a manner to my
+mind, most improper for a young girl. He made her read Rollin's
+'Ancient History,' and Blair's 'Chronological Tables,' and really upon
+my word, I cannot say what else."
+
+"I do not care how it was," said Coppinger. "But here stands the
+gulf."
+
+"Rollin is in sixteen octavo volumes," said Aunt Dionysia; "and they
+are thick also."
+
+Coppinger strode about the room, with his hands in his deep coat
+pockets, his head down.
+
+"My dear brother," continued Miss Trevisa, apologetically, "made of
+Judith his daily companion, told her all he thought, asked her
+opinion, as though she were a full-grown woman, and one whose opinion
+was worth having, whereas he never consulted me, never cared to talk
+to me about anything, and the consequence is the child has grown up
+without that respect for her elders and betters, and that deference
+for the male sex which the male sex expects. I am sure when I was a
+girl, and of her age, I was very different, very different indeed."
+
+"Of that I have not the smallest doubt," sneered Coppinger. "But never
+mind about yourself. It is of her I am speaking. She is gone, has
+left me, and I cannot endure it. I cannot endure it," he repeated.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said Aunt Dionysia, "you must excuse me saying
+it, Captain Coppinger, but you place me in a difficult position. I am
+the guardian of my niece, though, goodness knows, I never desired it,
+and I don't know what to think. It is very flattering and kind, and I
+esteem it great goodness in you to speak of Judith with such warmth,
+but----"
+
+"Goodness! kindness!" exclaimed Coppinger. "I am good and kind to her!
+She forced me to it. I can be nothing else, and she throws me at her
+feet and tramples on me."
+
+"I am sure your sentiments, sir, are--are estimable; but, feeling as
+you seem to imply toward Judith, I hardly know what to say. Bless me!
+what a scourge to my shoulders these children are: nettles stinging
+and blistering my skin, and not allowing me a moment's peace!"
+
+"I imply nothing," said Coppinger. "I speak out direct and plain what
+I mean. I love her. She has taken me, she turns me about, she gets my
+heart between her little hands and tortures it."
+
+"Then surely, Captain, you cannot ask me to let her be here. You are
+most kind to express yourself in this manner about the pert hussy,
+but, as she is my niece, and I am responsible for her, I must do my
+duty by her, and not expose her to be--talked about. Bless me!" gasped
+Aunt Dunes, "when I was her age I never would have put myself into
+such a position as to worry my aunt out of her seven senses, and bring
+her nigh to distraction."
+
+"I will marry her, and make her mistress of my house and all I have,"
+said Coppinger.
+
+Miss Trevisa slightly courtesied, then said, "I am sure you are
+over-indulgent, but what is to become of me? I have no doubt it will
+be very comfortable and acceptable to Judith to hear this, but--what
+is to become of me? It would not be very delightful for me to be
+housekeeper here under my own niece, a pert, insolent, capricious
+hussy. You can see at once, Captain Coppinger, that I cannot consent
+to that."
+
+The woman had the shrewdness to know that she could be useful to
+Coppinger, and the selfishness that induced her to make terms with
+him to secure her own future, and to show him that she could stand in
+his way till he yielded to them.
+
+"I never asked to have these children thrust down my throat, like the
+fish-bone that strangled Lady Godiva--no, who was it? Earl Godiva; but
+I thank my stars I never waded through Rollin, and most certainly kept
+my hands off Blair. Of course, Captain Coppinger, it is right and
+proper of you to address yourself to me, as the guardian of my niece,
+before speaking to her."
+
+"I have spoken to her and she spurns me."
+
+"Naturally, because you spoke to her before addressing me on the
+subject. My dear brother--I will do him this justice--was very
+emphatic on this point. But you see, sir, my consent can never be
+given."
+
+"I do not ask your consent."
+
+"Judith will never take you without it."
+
+"Consent or no consent," said Coppinger, "that is a secondary matter.
+The first is, she does not like me, whereas I--I love her. I never
+loved a woman before. I knew not what love was. I laughed at the
+fools, as I took them to be, who sold themselves into the hands of
+women; but now, I cannot live without her. I can think of nothing but
+her all day. I am in a fever, and cannot sleep at night--all because
+she is tormenting me."
+
+All at once, exhausted by his passion, desperate at seeing no chance
+of success, angry at being flouted by a child, he threw himself into
+the chair, and settled his chin on his breast, and folded his arms.
+
+"Go on," said he. "Tell me what is my way out of this."
+
+"You cannot expect my help or my advice, Captain, so as to forward
+what would be most unsatisfactory to me."
+
+"What! do you grudge her to me?"
+
+"Not that; but, if she were here, what would become of me? Should I be
+turned out into the cold at my age by this red-headed hussy, to find a
+home for myself with strangers? Here I never would abide with her as
+mistress, never."
+
+"I care naught about you."
+
+"No, of that I am aware, to my regret, sir; but that makes it all the
+more necessary for me to take care for myself."
+
+"I see," said Coppinger, "I must buy you. Is your aid worth it? Will
+she listen to you?"
+
+"I can make her listen to me," said Aunt Dunes, "if it be worth my
+while. At my age, having roughed it, having no friends, I must think
+of myself and provide for the future, when I shall be too old to
+work."
+
+"Name your price."
+
+Miss Trevisa did not answer for a while; she was considering the terms
+she would make. To her coarse and soured mind there was nothing to
+scruple at in aiding Coppinger in his suit. The Trevisas were of a
+fine old Cornish stock, but then Judith took after her mother, the
+poor Scottish governess, and Aunt Dunes did not feel toward her as
+though she were of her own kin. The girl looked like her mother. She
+had no right, in Miss Trevisa's eyes, to bear the name of her father,
+for her father ought to have known better than stoop to marry a
+beggarly, outlandish governess. Not very logical reasoning, but what
+woman, where her feelings are engaged, does reason logically? Aunt
+Dunes had never loved her niece; she felt an inner repulsion, such as
+sprang from encountering a nature superior, purer, more refined than
+her own, and the mortification of being forced to admit to herself
+that it was so. Judith, moreover, was costing her money, and Miss
+Trevisa parted with her hard-earned savings as reluctantly as with her
+heart's blood. She begrudged the girl and her brother every penny she
+was forced, or believed she would be forced, to expend upon them. And
+was she doing the girl an injury in helping her to a marriage that
+would assure her a home and a comfortable income?
+
+Aunt Dionysia knew well enough that things went on in Pentyre Glaze
+that were not to be justified, that Coppinger's mode of life was not
+one calculated to make a girl of Judith's temperament happy,
+but--"Hoity-toity!" said Miss Trevisa to herself, "if girls marry,
+they must take men as they find them. Beggars must not be choosers.
+You must not look a gift horse in the mouth. No trout can be eaten
+apart from its bones, nor a rose plucked that is free from thorns."
+She herself had accommodated herself to the ways of the house, to the
+moods and manners of Coppinger; and if she could do that, so could a
+mongrel Trevisa. What was good enough for herself was over-good for
+Judith.
+
+She had been saddled with these children, much against her wishes,
+and if she shifted the saddle to the shoulders of one willing to bear
+it, why not? She had duties to perform to her own self as well as to
+those thrust on her by the dead hand of that weak, that inconsiderate
+brother of hers, Peter Trevisa.
+
+Would her brother have approved of her forwarding this union? That was
+a question that did not trouble her much. Peter did what he thought
+best for his daughter when he was alive, stuffing her head with Rollin
+and Blair, and now that he was gone, she must do the best she could
+for her, and here was a chance offered that she would be a fool not to
+snap at.
+
+Nor did she concern herself greatly whether Judith's happiness were at
+stake. Hoity-toity! girls' happiness! They are bound to make
+themselves happy when they find themselves. The world was not made to
+fit them, but they to accommodate themselves to the places in which
+they found themselves in the world.
+
+Miss Trevisa had for some days seen the direction matters were taking,
+she had seen clearly enough the infatuation--yes, infatuation she said
+it was--that had possessed Coppinger. What he could see in the girl
+passed her wits to discover. To her, Judith was an odious little
+minx--very like her mother. Miss Trevisa, therefore, had had time to
+weigh the advantages and the disadvantages that might spring to her,
+should Coppinger persist in his suit and succeed; and she had
+considered whether it would be worth her while to help or to hinder
+his suit.
+
+"You put things," said Aunt Dionysia, "in a blunt and a discourteous
+manner, such as might offend a lady of delicacy, like myself, who am
+in delicacy a perfect guava jelly; but, Captain, I know your ways, as
+I ought to, having been an inmate of this house for many years. It is
+no case of buying and selling, as you insinuate, but the case is
+plainly this: I know the advantage it will be to my niece to be
+comfortably provided for. She and Jamie have between them but about a
+thousand pounds, a sum to starve, and not to live, upon. They have no
+home and no relative in the world but myself, who am incapable of
+giving them a home and of doing anything for them except at an
+excruciating sacrifice. If Judith be found, through your offer, a
+home, then Jamie also is provided for."
+
+He said nothing to this, but moved his feet impatiently. She went on:
+"The boy _must_ be provided for. And if Judith become your wife, not
+only will it be proper for you to see that he is so, but Judith will
+give neither you nor me our natural rest until the boy is comfortable
+and happy."
+
+"Confound the boy!"
+
+"It is all very well to say that, but he who would have anything to
+say to Judith must reckon to have to consider Jamie also. They are
+inseparable. Now, I assume that by Judith's marriage Jamie is cared
+for. But how about myself? Is every one to lie in clover and I in
+stubble? Am I to rack my brains to find a home for my nephew and
+niece, only that I may be thrust out myself? To find for them places
+at your table, that I may be deprived of a crust and a bone under it?
+If no one else will consider me, I must consider myself. I am the last
+representative of an ancient and honorable family--" She saw Coppinger
+move his hand, and thought he expressed dissent. She added hastily,
+"As to Judith and Jamie, they take after their Scotch mother. I do not
+reckon them as Trevisas."
+
+"Come--tell me what you want," said Coppinger, impatiently.
+
+"I want to be secure for my old age, that I do not spend it in the
+poor-house."
+
+"What do you ask?"
+
+"Give me an annuity of fifty pounds for my life, and Othello Cottage
+that is on your land."
+
+"You ask enough."
+
+"You will never get Judith without granting me that."
+
+"Well--get Judith to be mine, and you shall have it."
+
+"Will you swear to it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And give me--I desire that--the promise in writing."
+
+"You shall have it."
+
+"Then I will help you."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Leave that to me. I am her guardian."
+
+"But not of her heart?"
+
+"Leave her to me. You shall win her."
+
+"How!"
+
+"Through Jamie."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+OTHELLO COTTAGE.
+
+
+To revert to the old life as far as possible under changed
+circumstances, to pass a sponge over a terrible succession of
+pictures, to brush out the vision of horrors from her eyes, and shake
+the burden of the past off her head--if for a while only--was a joy to
+Judith. She had been oppressed with nightmare, and now the night was
+over, her brain clear, and should forget its dreams.
+
+She and Jamie were together, and were children once more; her anxiety
+for her brother was allayed, and she had broken finally with Cruel
+Coppinger. Her heart bounded with relief. Jamie was simple and docile
+as of old; and she rambled with him through the lanes, along the
+shore, upon the downs, avoiding only one tract of common and one cove.
+
+A child's heart is elastic; eternal droopings it cannot bear. Beaten
+down, bruised and draggled by the storm, it springs up when the sun
+shines, and laughs into flower. It is no eucalyptus that ever hangs
+its leaves; it is a sensitive plant, wincing, closing, at a trifle,
+feeling acutely, but not for long.
+
+And now Judith had got an idea into her head, that she communicated to
+Jamie, and her sanguine anticipations kindled his torpid mind. She had
+resolved to make little shell baskets and other chimney ornaments, not
+out of the marine shells cast up by the sea, for on that coast none
+came ashore whole, but out of the myriad snail-shells that strew the
+downs. They were of all sizes, from a pin's head to a gooseberry, and
+of various colors--salmon-pink, sulphur-yellow, rich brown and pure
+white. By judicious arrangement of sizes and of colors, with a little
+gum on cardboard, what wonderful erections might be made, certain to
+charm the money out of the pocket, and bring in a little fortune to
+the twins.
+
+"And then," said Jamie, "I can build a linney, and rent a paddock, and
+keep my Neddy at Polzeath."
+
+"And," said Judith, "we need be no longer a burden to Auntie."
+
+The climax of constructive genius would be exhibited in the formation
+of a shepherd and shepherdess, for which Judith was to paint faces and
+hands; but their hats, their garments, their shoes, were to be made of
+shells. The shepherdess was to have a basket on her arm, and in this
+basket were to be flowers, not made out of complete shells, but out of
+particles of sea-shells of rainbow colors.
+
+What laughter, what exultation there was over the shepherd and
+shepherdess! How in imagination they surpassed the fascinations of
+Dresden china figures. And the price at which they were to be sold was
+settled. Nothing under a pound would be accepted, and that would be
+inadequate to represent the value of such a monument of skill and
+patience! The shepherd and shepherdess would have to be kept under
+glass bells, on a drawing-room mantel-shelf.
+
+Judith's life had hitherto been passed between her thoughtful,
+cultured father and her thoughtless, infantile brother. In some
+particulars she was old for her age, but in others she was younger
+than her years. As the companion of her father, she had gained powers
+of reasoning, a calmness in judging, and a shrewdness of sense which
+is unusual in a girl of eighteen. But as also the associate of Jamie
+in his play, she had a childish delight in the simplest amusements,
+and a readiness to shake off all serious thought and fretting care in
+an instant, and to accommodate herself to the simplicity of her
+brother.
+
+Thus--a child with a child--Judith and Jamie were on the common one
+windy, showery day, collecting shells, laughing, chattering, rejoicing
+over choice snail-shells, as though neither had passed through a wave
+of trouble, as though life lay serene before them.
+
+Judith had no experience of the world. With her natural wit and
+feminine instinct she had discovered that Cruel Coppinger loved her.
+She had also no hesitation in deciding that he must be repulsed.
+Should he seek her, she must avoid him. They could not possibly unite
+their lives. She had told him this, and there the matter ended. He
+must swallow his disappointment, and think no more about her. No one
+could have everything he wanted. Other people had to put up with
+rejection, why not Coppinger? It might be salutary to him to find that
+he could not have his way in all things. So she argued, and then she
+put aside from her all thought of the Captain, and gave herself up to
+consideration of snail-shell boxes, baskets, and shepherds and
+shepherdesses.
+
+Jamie was developing a marvellous aptitude for bird-stuffing. Mr.
+Menaida had told Judith repeatedly that if the boy would stick to it,
+he might become as skilful as himself. He would be most happy,
+thankful to be able to pass over to him some of the work that
+accumulated, and which he could not execute. "I am not a professional;
+I am an amateur. I only stuff birds to amuse my leisure moments.
+Provokingly enough, gentlemen do not believe this. They write to me as
+if I were a tradesman, laying their commands upon me, and I resent it.
+I have a small income of my own, and am not forced to slave for my
+bread and 'baccy. Now, if Jamie will work with me and help me, I will
+cheerfully share profits with him. I must be director--that is
+understood."
+
+But it was very doubtful whether poor Jamie could be taught to apply
+himself regularly to the work, and that under a desultory master, who
+could not himself remain at a task many minutes without becoming
+exhausted and abandoning it. Jamie could be induced to work only by
+being humored. He loved praise. He must be coaxed and flattered to
+undertake any task that gave trouble. Fortunately, taxidermy did not
+require any mental effort, and it was the straining of his imperfect
+mental powers that irritated and exhausted the boy.
+
+With a little cajolery he might be got to do as much as did Uncle
+Zachie, and if Mr. Menaida were as good as his word--and there could
+be little doubt that so kind, amiable, and honorable a man would be
+that--Jamie would really earn a good deal of money. Judith also hoped
+to earn more with her shell-work, and together she trusted they would
+be able to support themselves without further tax on Miss Trevisa.
+
+And what a childish pleasure they found in scheming their future, what
+they would do with their money, where they would take a house, how
+furnish it! They laughed over their schemes, and their pulses
+fluttered at the delightful pictures they conjured up. And all their
+rosy paradise was to rise out of the proceeds of stuffed birds and
+snail-shell chimney ornaments.
+
+"Ju! come here, Ju!" cried Jamie.
+
+Then again impatiently, "Ju! come here, Ju!"
+
+"What is it, dear?"
+
+"Here is the very house for us. Do come and see."
+
+On the down, nestled against a wall that had once enclosed a garden,
+but was now ruinous, stood a cottage. It was built of wreck-timber,
+thatched with heather and bracken, and with stones laid on the
+thatching, which was bound with ropes, as protection against the wind.
+A quaint, small house, with little windows under the low eaves; one
+story high, the window-frames painted white; the glass frosted with
+salt blown from the sea, so that it was impossible to look through the
+small panes, and discover what was within. The door had a gable over
+it, and the centre of the gable was occupied by a figure-head of
+Othello. The Moor of Venice was black and well battered by storm, so
+that the paint was washed and bitten off him. There was a strong brick
+chimney in the midst of the roof, but no smoke issued from it, nor had
+the house the appearance of being inhabited. There were no blinds to
+the windows, there were no crocks, no drying linen about the house; it
+had a deserted look, and yet was in good repair.
+
+"Oh, Ju!" said Jamie, "we will live here. Will it not be fun? And I
+shall have a gun and shoot birds."
+
+"Whose house can it be?" asked Judith.
+
+"I don't know. Ju, the door is open; shall we go in?"
+
+"No, Jamie, we have no right there."
+
+A little gate was in the wall, and Judith looked through. There had at
+one time certainly been a garden there, but it had been neglected, and
+allowed to be overrun with weeds. Roses, escallonica, and lavender had
+grown in untrimmed luxuriance. Marigolds rioted over the space like a
+weed. Pinks flourished, loving the sandy soil, but here and there the
+rude blue thistle had intruded and asserted its right to the
+sea-border land as its indigenous home.
+
+Down came the rain, so lashing that Judith was constrained to seek
+shelter, and, in spite of her protest that she had no right to enter
+Othello Cottage, she passed the threshold.
+
+No one was within but Jamie, who had not attended to her objection;
+led by curiosity, and excusing himself by the rain, he had opened the
+door and gone inside.
+
+The house was unoccupied, and yet was not in a condition of neglect
+and decay. If no one lived there, yet certainly some one visited it,
+for it had not that mouldy atmosphere that pervades a house long shut
+up, nor were dust and sand deep on floor and table. There was
+furniture, though scanty. The hearth showed traces of having had a
+fire in it at no very distant period. There were benches. There were
+even tinder-box and candle on the mantle-shelf.
+
+Jamie was in high excitement and delight. This was the ogre's cottage
+to which Jack had climbed up the bean-stalk. He was sure to find
+somewhere the hen that laid golden eggs, and the harp that played of
+itself.
+
+Judith seated herself on one of the benches and sorted her shells,
+leaving Jamie to amuse himself. As the house was uninhabited, it did
+not seem to her that any gross impropriety existed in allowing him to
+run in and out and peep round the rooms, and into the corners.
+
+"Judith," he exclaimed, coming to her from an adjoining room, "there
+is a bed in here, and there are crooks in the wall!"
+
+"What are the crooks for, dear?"
+
+"For climbing, I think."
+
+Then he ran back, and she saw no more of him for a while, but heard
+him scrambling.
+
+She rose and went to the door into the adjoining apartment to see that
+he was after no mischief. She found that this apartment was intended
+for sleeping in. There was a bedstead with a mattress on it, but no
+clothes. Jamie had found some crooks in the wall, and was scrambling
+up these, with hands and feet, toward the ceiling, where she perceived
+an opening, apparently into the attic.
+
+"Oh, Jamie! what are you doing there?"
+
+"Ju, I want to see whether there is anything between the roof and the
+ceiling. There may be the harp there, or the hen that lays golden
+eggs."
+
+"The shower is nearly over; I shall not wait for you."
+
+She seated herself on the bed and watched him. He thrust open a
+sliding board, and crawled through into the attic. He would soon tire
+of exploring among the rafters, and would return dirty, and have to
+be cleared of cobwebs and dust. But it amused the boy. He was ever
+restless, and she would find it difficult to keep him occupied sitting
+by her below till the rain ceased, so she allowed him to scramble and
+search as he pleased. Very few minutes had passed before Judith heard
+a short cough in the main room, and she at once rose and stepped back
+into it to apologize for her intrusion. To her great surprise she
+found her aunt there, at the little window, measuring it.
+
+"A couple of yards will do--double width," said Miss Trevisa.
+
+"Auntie!" exclaimed Judith. "Who ever would have thought of seeing you
+here?"
+
+Miss Trevisa turned sharply round, and her lips tightened.
+
+"And who would have thought of seeing you here," she answered, curtly.
+
+"Auntie, the rain came on; I ran in here so as not to be wet through.
+To whom does this house belong?"
+
+"To the master--to whom else? Captain Coppinger."
+
+"Are you measuring the window for blinds for him?"
+
+"I am measuring for blinds, but not for him."
+
+"But--who lives here?"
+
+"No one as yet."
+
+"Is any one coming to live here?"
+
+"Yes--I am."
+
+"Oh, auntie! and are we to come here with you?"
+
+Miss Trevisa snorted, and stiffened her back.
+
+"Are you out of your senses, like Jamie, to ask such a question? What
+is the accommodation here? Two little bedrooms, one large kitchen, and
+a lean-to for scullery--that is all--a fine roomy mansion for three
+people indeed!"
+
+"But, auntie, are you leaving the Glaze?"
+
+"Yes, I am. Have you any objection to that?"
+
+"No, aunt, only I am surprised. And Captain Cruel lets you have this
+dear little cottage?"
+
+"As to its being dear, I don't know, I am to have it; and that is how
+you have found it open to poke and pry into. I came up to look round
+and about me, and then found I had not brought my measuring tape with
+me, so I returned home for that, and you found the door open and
+thrust yourself in."
+
+"I am very sorry if I have given you annoyance."
+
+"Oh, it's no annoyance to me. The place is not mine yet."
+
+"But when do you come here, Aunt Dunes?"
+
+"When?" Miss Trevisa looked at her niece with a peculiar expression in
+her hard face that Judith noticed, but could not interpret. "That,"
+said Miss Trevisa, "I do not know yet."
+
+"I suppose you will do up that dear little garden," said Judith.
+
+Miss Trevisa did not vouchsafe an answer; she grunted, and resumed her
+measuring.
+
+"Has this cottage been vacant for long, auntie?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But, auntie, some one comes here. It is not quite deserted."
+
+Miss Trevisa said to herself, "Four times two and one breadth torn in
+half to allow for folds will do it. Four times two is eight, and one
+breadth more is ten."
+
+Just then Jamie appeared, shyly peeping through the door. He had heard
+his aunt's voice, and was afraid to show himself. Her eye, however,
+observed him, and in a peremptory tone she ordered him to come
+forward.
+
+But Jamie would not obey her willingly, and he deemed it best for him
+to make a dash through the kitchen to the open front door.
+
+"That boy!" growled Miss Trevisa, "I'll be bound he has been at
+mischief."
+
+"Auntie, I think the rain has ceased, I will say good-by."
+
+Then Judith left the cottage.
+
+"Ju," said Jamie, when he was with his sister beyond earshot of the
+aunt, "such fun--I have something to tell you."
+
+"What is it, Jamie?"
+
+"I won't tell you till we get home."
+
+"Oh, Jamie, not till we get back to Polzeath?"
+
+"Well, not till we get half-way home--to the white gate. Then I will
+tell you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+JAMIE'S RIDE.
+
+
+"Now, Jamie! the white gate."
+
+"The white gate!--what about that?" He had forgotten his promise.
+
+"You have a secret to tell me."
+
+Then the boy began to laugh and to tap his pockets.
+
+"What do you think, Ju! look what I have found. Do you know what is in
+the loft of the cottage we were in? There are piles of tobacco, all up
+hidden away in the dark under the rafters. I have got my pockets
+stuffed as full as they will hold. It is for Uncle Zachie. Won't he be
+pleased?"
+
+"Oh, Jamie! you should not have done that."
+
+"Why not? Don't scold, Ju!"
+
+"It is stealing."
+
+"No, it is not. No one lives there."
+
+"Nevertheless it belongs to some one, by whatever means it was got,
+and for whatever purpose stowed away there. You had no right to touch
+it."
+
+"Then why do you take snail-shells?"
+
+"They belong to no one, no one values them. It is other with this
+tobacco. Give it up. Take it back again."
+
+"What--to Aunt Dunes? I daren't, she's so cross."
+
+"Well, give it to me, and I will take it to her. She is now at the
+cottage, and the tobacco can be replaced."
+
+"Oh, Ju, I should like to see her scramble up the wall!"
+
+"I do not think she will do that; but she will contrive somehow to
+have the tobacco restored. It is not yours, and I believe it belongs
+to Captain Cruel. If it be not given back now he may hear of it and be
+very angry."
+
+"He would beat me," said the boy, hastily emptying his pockets. "I'd
+rather have Aunt Dunes' jaw than Captain Cruel's stick." He gave the
+tobacco to his sister, but he was not in a good humor. He did not see
+the necessity for restoring it. But Jamie never disobeyed his sister,
+when they were alone, and she was determined with him. Before others
+he tried to display his independence, by feeble defiances never long
+maintained, and ending in a reconciliation with tears and kisses, and
+promises of submission without demur for the future. With all, even
+the most docile children, there occur epochs when they try their
+wings, strut and ruffle their plumes, and crow very loud--epochs of
+petulance or boisterous outbreak of self-assertion in the face of
+their guides and teachers. If the latter be firm, the trouble passes
+away to be renewed at a future period till manhood or womanhood is
+reached, and then guide and teacher who is wise falls back, lays down
+control, and lets the pupils have their own way. But if at the first
+attempts at mastery, those in authority, through indifference or
+feebleness or folly, give way, then the fate of the children is
+sealed, they are spoiled for ever.
+
+Jamie had his rebellious fits, and they were distressing to Judith,
+but she never allowed herself to be conquered. She evaded provoking
+them whenever possible; and as much as possible led him by his
+affection. He had a very tender heart, was devotedly attached to his
+sister, and appeals to his better nature were usually successful, not
+always immediately, but in the long run.
+
+Her association with Jamie had been of benefit to Judith; it had
+strengthened her character. She had been forced from earliest
+childhood to be strong where he was weak, to rule because he was
+incapable of ruling himself. This had nurtured in her a decision of
+mind, a coolness of judgment, and an inflexibility of purpose unusual
+in a girl of her years.
+
+Judith walked to Othello Cottage, carrying the tobacco in her skirt,
+held up by both hands; and Jamie sauntered back to Polzeath, carrying
+his sister's basket of shells, stopping at intervals to add to the
+collection, then ensconcing himself in a nook of the hedge to watch a
+finch, a goldhammer, or a blackbird, then stopped to observe and
+follow a beetle of gorgeous metallic hues that was running across the
+path.
+
+Presently he emerged into the highway, the parish road; there was no
+main road in those parts maintained by toll-gates, and then observed a
+gig approach in which sat two men, one long and narrow-faced, the
+other tall, but stout and round-faced. He recognized the former at
+once as Mr. Scantlebray, the appraiser. Mr. Scantlebray, who was
+driving, nudged his companion, and with the butt-end of the whip
+pointed to the boy.
+
+"Heigh! hi-up! Gaffer!" called Mr. Scantlebray, flapping his arms
+against his sides, much as does a cock with his wings. "Come along; I
+have something of urgent importance to say to you--something so good
+that it will make you squeak; something so delicious that it will make
+your mouth water."
+
+This was addressed to Jamie, as the white mare leisurely trotted up to
+where the boy stood. Then Scantlebray drew up, with his elbows at
+right angles to his trunk.
+
+"Here's my brother thirsting, ravening to make your acquaintance--and,
+by George! you are in luck's way, young hopeful, to make his. Obadiah!
+this here infant is an orphing. Orphing! this is Obadiah Scantlebray,
+whom I call Scanty because he is fat. Jump up, will y', into the gig."
+
+Jamie looked vacantly about him. He had an idea that he ought to wait
+for Judith or go directly home. But she had not forbidden him to have
+a ride, and a ride was what he dearly loved.
+
+"Are you coming?" asked Scantlebray; "or do you need a more
+ceremonious introduction to Mr. Obadiah, eh?"
+
+"I've got a basket of shells," said Jamie. "They belong to Ju."
+
+"Well, put Ju's basket in--the shells won't hurt--and then in with
+you. There's a nice little portmantle in front, on which you can sit
+and look us in the face, and if you don't tumble off with laughing, it
+will be because I strap you in. My brother is the very comicalest
+fellow in Cornwall. It's a wonder I haven't died of laughter. I should
+have, but our paths diverged; he took up the medical line, and I the
+valuation and all that, so my life was saved. Are you comfortable
+there?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Jamie, seated himself where advised.
+
+"Now for the strap round ye," said Scantlebray. "Don't be alarmed;
+it's to hold you together, lest you split your sides with merriment,
+and to hold you in, lest you tumble overboard convulsed with
+laughter. That brother of mine is the killingest man in Great
+Britain. Look at his face. Bless me! in church I should explode when I
+saw him, but that I am engrossed in my devotions. On with you, Juno!"
+
+That to the gray mare, and a whip applied to make the gray mare trot
+along, which she did, with her head down lost in thought, or as if
+smelling the road, to make sure that she was on the right track.
+
+"'Tisn't what he says," remarked Mr. Scantlebray, seeing a questioning
+expression on Jamie's innocent face, "it's the looks of him. And when
+he speaks--well, it's the way he says it more than what he says. I was
+at a Charity Trust dinner, and Obadiah said to the waiter, 'Cutlets,
+please!' The fellow dropped the dish, and I stuffed my napkin into my
+mouth, ran out, and went into a fit. Now, Scanty, show the young
+gentleman how to make a rabbit."
+
+Then Mr. Scantlebray tickled up the mare with the lash of his whip,
+cast some objurgations at a horse-fly that was hovering and then
+darting at Juno.
+
+Mr. Obadiah drew forth a white but very crumpled kerchief from his
+pocket, and proceeded to fold it on his lap.
+
+"Just look at him," said the agent, "doing it in spite of the motion
+of the gig. It's wonderful. But his face is the butchery. I can't look
+at it for fear of letting go the reins."
+
+The roads were unfrequented; not a person was passing as the party
+jogged along. Mr. Scantlebray hissed to the mare between his front
+teeth, which were wide apart; then, turning his eye sideways, observed
+what his brother was about.
+
+"That's his carcase," said he, in reference to the immature rabbit.
+
+Then a man was sighted coming along the road, humming a tune. It was
+Mr. Menaida.
+
+"How are you? Compliments to the young lady orphing, and say we're
+jolly--all three," shouted Scantlebray, urging his mare to a faster
+pace, and keeping her up to it till they had turned a corner, and
+Menaida was no more in sight.
+
+"Just look at his face, as he's a folding of that there
+pockyhandkercher," said the appraiser. "It's exploding work."
+
+Jamie looked into the stolid features of Mr. Obadiah, and
+laughed--laughed heartily, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.
+Not that he saw aught humorous there, but that he was told it was
+there, he ought to see it, and would be a fool if he were not
+convulsed by it.
+
+Precisely the same thing happens with us. We look at and go into
+raptures over a picture, because it is by a Royal Academician who has
+been knighted on account of his brilliant successes. We are charmed at
+a cantata, stifling our yawns, because we are told by the art critics
+who are paid to puff it, that we are fools, and have no ears if we do
+not feel charmed by it. We rush to read a new novel, and find it
+vastly clever, because an eminent statesman has said on a postcard it
+has pleased him.
+
+We laugh when told to laugh, condemn when told to condemn, and would
+stand on our heads if informed that it was bad for us to walk on our
+feet.
+
+"There!" said Mr. Scantlebray, the valuer. "Them's ears."
+
+"Crrrh!" went Mr. Obadiah, and the handkerchief, converted into a
+white bunny, shot from his hand up his sleeve.
+
+"I can't drive, 'pon my honor; I'm too ill. You have done me for
+to-day," said Scantlebray the elder, the valuer. "Now, young hopeful,
+what say you? Will you make a rabbit, also? I'll give you a shilling
+if you will."
+
+Thereupon Jamie took the kerchief and spread it out, and began to fold
+it. Whenever he went wrong Mr. Obadiah made signs, either by elevation
+of his brows and a little shake of his head, or by pointing, and his
+elder brother caught him at it and protested. Obadiah was the drollest
+fellow, he was incorrigible, as full of mischief as an egg is full of
+meat. There was no trusting him for a minute when the eye was off him.
+
+"Come, Scanty! I'll put you on your honor. Look the other way." But a
+moment after--"Ah, for shame! there you are at it again. Young
+hopeful, you see what a vicious brother I have; perfectly
+untrustworthy, but such a comical dog. Full of tricks up to the ears.
+You should see him make shadows on the wall. He can represent a pig
+eating out of a trough. You see the ears flap, the jaws move, the eye
+twinkle in appreciation of the barley-meal. It is to the life, and all
+done by the two hands--by one, I may say, for the other serves as
+trough. What! Done the rabbit! First rate! Splendid! Here is the
+shilling. But, honor bright, you don't deserve it; that naughty Scanty
+helped you."
+
+"Please," said Jamie, timidly, "may I get out now and go home?"
+
+"Go home! What for?"
+
+"I want to show Ju my shilling."
+
+"By ginger! that is too rich. Not a bit of it. Do you know Mistress
+Polgrean's sweetie shop?"
+
+"But that's at Wadebridge."
+
+"At Wadebridge; and why not? You will spend your shilling there. But
+look at my brother. It is distressing; his eyes are alight at the
+thoughts of the tartlets, and the sticks of peppermint sugar, and the
+almond rock. Are you partial to almond rock, orphin?"
+
+Jamie's mind was at once engaged.
+
+"Which is it to be? Gingerbreads or tartlets, almond rock or
+barley-sugar?"
+
+"I think I'll have the peppermint," said Jamie.
+
+"Then peppermint it shall be. And you will give me a little bit, and
+Scanty a bit, and take a little bit home to Ju, eh?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"He'll take a little bit home to Ju, Obadiah, old man."
+
+The funny brother nodded.
+
+"And the basket of shells?" asked the elder.
+
+"Yes, she is making little boxes with them to sell," said Jamie.
+
+"I suppose I may have the privilege of buying some," said Mr.
+Scantlebray, senior. "Oh, look at that brother of mine! How he is
+screwing his nose about! I say, old man, are you ill? Upon my life, I
+believe he is laughing."
+
+Presently Jamie got restless.
+
+"Please, Mr. Scantlebray, may I get out? Ju will be frightened at my
+being away so long."
+
+"Poor Ju!" said Scantlebray, the elder. "But no--don't you worry your
+mind about that. We passed Uncle Zachie, and he will tell her where
+you are, in good hands, or rather, nipped between most reliable
+knees--my brother's and mine. Sit still. I can't stop Juno; we're
+going down-hill now, and if I stopped Juno she would fall. You must
+wait--wait till we get to Mrs. Polgrean's." Then, after chuckling-to
+himself, Scantlebray, senior, said: "Obadiah, old man, I wonder what
+Missie Ju is thinking? I wonder what she will say, eh?" Again he
+chuckled. "No place in your establishment for that party, eh?"
+
+The outskirts of Wadebridge were reached.
+
+"Now may I get out?" said Jamie.
+
+"Bless my heart! Not yet. Wait for Mrs. Polgrean's."
+
+But presently Mrs. Polgrean's shop-window was passed.
+
+"Oh, stop! stop!" cried Jamie. "We have gone by the sweetie shop."
+
+"Of course we have," answered Scantlebray, senior. "I daren't trust
+that brother of mine in there; he has such a terrible sweet tooth.
+Besides, I want you to see the pig eating out of the trough. It will
+kill you. If it don't I'll give you another shilling."
+
+Presently he drew up at the door of a stiff, square-built house, with
+a rambling wing thrown out on one side. It was stuccoed and painted
+drab--drab walls, drab windows, and drab door.
+
+"Now, then, young man," said Scantlebray, cheerily, "I'll unbuckle the
+strap and let you out. You come in with me. This is my brother's
+mansion, roomy, pleasant, and comprehensive. You shall have a dish of
+tea."
+
+"And then I may go home?"
+
+"And then--we shall see; shan't we, Obadiah, old man?"
+
+They entered the hall, and the door was shut and fastened behind them;
+then into a somewhat dreary room, with red flock paper on the walls,
+no pictures, leather-covered, old, mahogany chairs, and a book or two
+on the table--one of these a Bible.
+
+Jamie looked wonderingly about him, a little disposed to cry. He was a
+long way from Polzeath, and Judith would be waiting for him and
+anxious, and the place into which he was ushered was not cheery, not
+inviting.
+
+"Now, then," said Mr. Scantlebray, "young hopeful, give me my
+shilling."
+
+"Please, I'm going to buy some peppermint and burnt almonds for Ju and
+me as I go back."
+
+"Oh, indeed! But suppose you do not have the chance?"
+
+Jamie looked vacantly in his face, then into that of the stolid
+brother, who was not preparing to show him the pig feeding out of a
+trough, nor was he calling for tea.
+
+"Come," said Scantlebray, the elder; "suppose I take charge of that
+shilling till you have the chance of spending it, young man."
+
+"Please, I'll spend it now."
+
+"Not a bit. You won't have the chance. Do you know where you are!"
+
+Jamie looked round in distress. He was becoming frightened at the
+altered tone of the valuer.
+
+"My dear," said Mr. Scantlebray, "you're now an honorable inmate of my
+brother's Establishment for Idiots, which you don't leave till cured
+of imbecility. That shilling, if you please?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+ALL IS FOR THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS.
+
+
+Judith returned to the cottage of Mr. Menaida, troubled in mind, for
+Aunt Dunes had been greatly incensed at the taking of the tobacco by
+Jamie, and not correspondingly gratified by the return of it so
+promptly by Judith. Miss Trevisa was a woman who magnified and
+resented any wrong done, but minimized and passed over as unworthy of
+notice whatever was generous, and every attempt made to repay an evil.
+Such attempts not only met with no favor from her, but were perverted
+in her crabbed mind into fresh affronts or injuries. That the theft of
+Jamie would not have been discovered had not Judith spoken of it and
+brought back what had been taken, was made of no account by Aunt
+Dionysia; she attacked Judith with sharp reproach for allowing the boy
+to be mischievous, for indulging him and suffering him to run into
+danger through his inquisitiveness and thoughtlessness. "For," said
+Aunt Dionysia, "had the master or any of his men found out what Jamie
+had done there is no telling how he might have been served." Then she
+had muttered: "If you will not take precautions, other folk must, and
+the boy must be put where he can be properly looked after and kept
+from interfering with the affairs of others."
+
+On reaching Mr. Menaida's cottage, Judith called her brother, but as
+she did not receive an answer, she went in quest of him, and was met
+by the servant, Jump. "If you please, miss," said Jump, "there's been
+two gen'lemen here, as said they was come from Mrs. Trevisa, and said
+they was to pack and take off Master Jamie's clothes. And please miss,
+I didn't know what to do--they was gen'lemen, and the master--he was
+out, and you was out, miss--and Master Jamie, he wasn't to home
+n'other."
+
+"Taken Jamie's clothes!" repeated Judith, in amazement.
+
+"Yes, miss, they brought a portmantle a-purpose; and they'd a gig at
+the door; and they spoke uncommon pleasant, leastwise one o' them
+did."
+
+"And where is Jamie? Has he not come home?"
+
+"No, miss."
+
+At that moment Mr. Menaida came in.
+
+"What is it, Judith? Jamie? Where Jamie is?--why, having a ride,
+seated between the two Scantlebrays, in their gig. That is where he
+is."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Menaida, but they have taken his clothes!"
+
+"Whose clothes?"
+
+"Jamie's."
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"The two gentlemen came to this house when you and I were out, and
+told Jump that they were empowered by my aunt to pack up and carry off
+all Jamie's clothing, which they put into a portmanteau they had
+brought with them."
+
+"And then picked up Jamie. He was sitting on the portmanteau," said
+Uncle Zachie; then his face became grave. "They said that they acted
+under authority from Mrs. Trevisa?"
+
+"So Jump says."
+
+"It can surely not be that he has been moved to the asylum."
+
+"Asylum, Mr. Menaida?"
+
+"The idiot asylum."
+
+Judith uttered a cry, and staggered back against the wall.
+
+"Jamie! my brother Jamie!"
+
+"Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray has such a place at Wadebridge."
+
+"But Jamie is not an idiot."
+
+"Your aunt authorized them--," mused Uncle Zachie. "Humph! you should
+see her about it. That is the first step, and ascertain whether she
+has done it, or whether they are acting with a high hand for
+themselves. I'll look at my law-books--if the latter it would be
+actionable."
+
+Judith did not hesitate for a moment. She hastened to Pentyre. That
+her aunt had left Othello Cottage she was pretty sure, as she was
+preparing to leave it when Judith returned with the tobacco.
+Accordingly she took the road to Pentyre at once. Tears of shame and
+pain welled up in her eyes at the thought of her darling brother
+being beguiled away to be locked up among the imbecile in a private
+establishment for the insane. Then her heart was contracted with anger
+and resentment at the scurvy trick played on her and him: She did not
+know that the Scantlebrays had been favored by pure accident. She
+conceived that men base enough to carry off her brother would watch
+and wait for the opportunity when to do it unobserved and unopposed.
+She hardly walked. She ran till her breath failed her, and the rapid
+throbbing of her heart would no longer allow her to run. Her dread of
+approaching the Glaze after the declaration made by Captain Cruel was
+overwhelmed in her immediate desire to know something about Jamie, in
+her anguish of fear for him. On Coppinger she did not cast a
+thought--her mind was so fully engrossed in her brother.
+
+She saw nothing of the Captain. She entered the house, and proceeded
+at once to her aunt's apartment. She found Miss Trevisa there, seated
+near the window, engaged on some chintz that she thought would do for
+the window at Othello Cottage, when she took possession of it. She had
+measured the piece, found that it was suitable, and was turning down a
+hem and tacking it. It was a pretty chintz, covered with sprigs of
+nondescript pink and blue flowers.
+
+Judith burst in on her, breathless, her brow covered with dew, her
+bosom heaving, her face white with distress, and tears standing on her
+eyelashes. She threw herself on her knees before Miss Trevisa, half
+crying out and half sobbing:
+
+"Oh, aunt! they have taken him!"
+
+"Who have taken whom?" asked the elderly lady, coldly.
+
+She raised her eyes and cast a look full of malevolence at Judith. She
+never had, did not, never would feel toward that girl as a niece. She
+hated her for her mother's sake, and now she felt an unreasonable
+bitterness against her, because she had fascinated Coppinger--perhaps,
+also, because in a dim fashion she was aware that she herself was
+acting toward the child in an unworthy, unmerciful manner, and we all
+hate those whom we wrong.
+
+"Auntie! tell me it is not so. Mr. Scantlebray and his brother have
+carried my darling Jamie away."
+
+"Well, and what of that!"
+
+"But--will they let me have him back?"
+
+Miss Trevisa pulled at the chintz. "I will trouble you not to crumple
+this," she said.
+
+"Aunt! dear aunt! you did not tell Mr. Scantlebray to take Jamie away
+from me?"
+
+The old lady did not answer, she proceeded to release the material at
+which she was engaged from under the knees of Judith. The girl, in her
+vehemence, put her hands to her aunt's arms, between the elbows and
+shoulders, and held and pressed them back, and with imploring eyes
+looked into her hard face.
+
+"Oh, auntie! you never sent Jamie to an asylum?"
+
+"I must beg you to let go my arms," said Miss Trevisa. "This conduct
+strikes me as most indecorous toward one of my age and relationship."
+
+She avoided Judith's eye, her brow wrinkled, and her lips contracted.
+The gall in her heart rose and overflowed.
+
+"I am not ashamed of what I have done."
+
+"Auntie!" with a cry of pain. Then Judith let go the old lady's arms,
+and clasped her hands over her eyes.
+
+"Really," said Miss Trevisa, with asperity, "you are a most
+exasperating person. I shall do with the boy what I see fit. You know
+very well that he is a thief."
+
+"He never took anything before to-day--never--and you had settled this
+before you knew about the tobacco!" burst from Judith, in anger and
+with floods of tears.
+
+"I knew that he has always been troublesome and mischievous, and he
+must be placed where he can be properly managed by those accustomed to
+such cases."
+
+"There is nothing the matter with Jamie."
+
+"You have humored and spoiled him. If he is such a plague to all who
+know him, it is because he has been treated injudiciously. He is now
+with men who are experienced, and able to deal with the like of
+Jamie."
+
+"Aunt, he must not be there. I promised my papa to be ever with him,
+and to look after him."
+
+"Then it is a pity your father did not set this down in writing.
+Please to remember that I, and not you, am constituted his guardian,
+by the terms of the will."
+
+"Oh, aunt! aunt! let him come back to me!"
+
+Miss Trevisa shook her head.
+
+"Then let me go to him!"
+
+"Hoity-toity! here's airs and nonsense. Really, Judith, you are almost
+imbecile enough to qualify for the asylum. But I cannot afford the
+cost of you both. Jamie's cost in that establishment will be L70 in
+the year, and how much do you suppose that you possess?"
+
+Judith remained kneeling upright, with her hands clasped, looking
+earnestly through her tears at her aunt.
+
+"You have in all, between you, but L45 or L50. When the dilapidations
+are paid, and the expenses of the funeral, and the will-proving, and
+all that, I do not suppose you will be found to have a thousand pounds
+between you, and that put out to interest will not bring you more than
+I have said; so I shall have to make up the deficiency. That is not
+pleasing to me, you may well suppose. But I had rather pay L25 out of
+my poor income, than have the name of the family disgraced by Jamie."
+
+"Jamie will never, never disgrace the name. He is too good. And--it is
+wicked, it is cruel to put him where you have. He is not an idiot."
+
+"I am perhaps a better judge than you; so also is Mr. Obadiah
+Scantlebray, who has devoted his life to the care and study of the
+imbecile. Your brother has weak intellects."
+
+"He is not clever; that is all. With application----"
+
+"He cannot apply his mind. He has no mind that can be got to be
+applied."
+
+"Aunt, he's no idiot. He must not be kept in that place."
+
+"You had best go back to Polzeath. I have decided on what I considered
+right. I have done my duty."
+
+"It cannot be just. I will see what Mr. Menaida says. He must be
+released; if you will not let him out, I will."
+
+Miss Trevisa looked up at her quickly between her half-closed lids; a
+bitter, cruel smile quivered about her lips. "If any one can deliver
+him, it will be you."
+
+Judith did not understand her meaning, and Aunt Dionysia did not care
+at that time to further enlighten her thereon. Finding her aunt
+inflexible, the unhappy girl left Pentyre Glaze and hurried back to
+Polzeath, where she implored Mr. Menaida to accompany her to
+Wadebridge. Go there she would--she must--that same evening. If he
+would not attend her, she would go alone. She could not rest, she
+could not remain in the house, till she had been to the place where
+Jamie was, and seen whether she could not release him thence by her
+entreaties, her urgency.
+
+Mr. Menaida shook his head. But he was a kind-hearted old man, and was
+distressed at the misery of the girl, and would not hear of her making
+the expedition alone, as she could not well return before dark. So he
+assumed his rough and shabby beaver hat, put on his best cravat, and
+sallied forth with Judith upon her journey to Wadebridge, one that he
+assured her must be fruitless, and had better be postponed till the
+morrow.
+
+"I cannot! I cannot!" she cried. "I cannot sleep, thinking of my
+darling brother in that dreadful place, with such people about him, he
+crying, frightened, driven mad by the strangeness of it all, and being
+away from me. I must go. If I cannot save him and bring him back with
+me, I can see him and console him, and bid him wait in patience and
+hope."
+
+Mr. Menaida with a soft heart and a weak will, was hung about with
+scraps of old-world polish, scraps only. In him nothing was
+complete--here and there a bare place of rustic uncouthness, there
+patches of velvet courtesy of the Queen Anne age; so, also, was he
+made up of fine culture, of classic learning alternating with boorish
+ignorance--here high principle, there none at all--a picture worked to
+a miniature in points, and in others rudely roughed in and neglected.
+Now he was moved as he had not been moved for years by the manifest
+unhappiness of the girl, and he was willing to do his utmost to assist
+her, but that utmost consisted in little more than accompanying her to
+Wadebridge and ringing at the house-bell of Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray's
+establishment. When it came to the interview that ensued with the
+proprietor of the establishment and jailer of Jamie, he failed
+altogether. Judith and Uncle Zachie were shown into the dreary parlor
+without ornaments, and presently to them entered Mr. Obadiah.
+
+"Oh, sir, is he here?--have you got Jamie here?"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray nodded his head, then went to the door and knocked
+with his fists against the wall. A servant maid appeared. "Send
+missus," said he, and returned to the parlor.
+
+Again Judith entreated to be told if her brother were there with all
+the vehemence and fervor of her tattered heart.
+
+Mr. Obadiah listened with stolid face and vacant eyes that turned from
+her to Mr. Menaida, and then back to her again. Presently an idea
+occurred to him and his face brightened. He went to a sideboard,
+opened a long drawer, brought out a large book, thrust it before
+Judith, and said, "Pictures." Then, as she took no notice of the book,
+he opened it.
+
+"Oh, please sir," pleaded Judith, "I don't want that. I want to know
+about Jamie. I want to see him."
+
+Then in at the door came a lady in black silk, with small curls about
+her brow. She was stout, but not florid.
+
+"What!" said she, "my dear, are you the young lady whose brother is
+here? Don't you fret yourself. He is as comfortable as a chick in a
+feathered nest. Don't you worry your little self about him now. Now
+your good days have begun. He will not be a trouble and anxiety to you
+any more. He is well cared for. I dare be sworn he has given you many
+an hour of anxiety. Now, O be joyful! that is over, and you can dance
+and play with a light heart. I have lifted the load off you, I and Mr.
+Scantlebray. Here he will be very comfortable and perfectly happy. I
+spare no pains to make my pets snug, and Scantlebray is inexhaustible
+in his ability to amuse them. He has a way with these innocents that
+is quite marvellous. Wait a while--give him and me a trial, and see
+what the result is. You may believe me as one of long and tried
+experience. It never does for amateurs--for relations--to undertake
+these cases; they don't know when to be firm, or when to yield. We
+do--it is our profession. We have studied the half-witted."
+
+"But my brother is _not_ half-witted."
+
+"So you say, and so it becomes you to say. Never admit that there is
+imbecility or insanity in the family. You are quite right, my dear;
+you look forward to being married some day, and you know very well it
+might stand in the way of an engagement, were it supposed that you had
+idiocy in the family blood. It is quite right. I understand all that
+sort of thing. We call it nervous debility, and insanity we term
+nervous excitement. Scantlebray, my poppet, isn't it so!"
+
+Mr. Obadiah nodded.
+
+"You leave all care to us; thrust it upon our shoulders. They will
+bear it; and never doubt that your brother will be cared for in body
+and in soul. In body--always something nice and light for supper,
+tapioca, rice-pudding, batter; to-night, rolly-poly. After that,
+prayers. We don't feed high, but we feed suitably. If you like to pay
+a little extra, we will feed higher. Now, my dear, you take all as for
+the best, and rely on it everything is right."
+
+"But Jamie ought not to be locked up."
+
+"My dear, he is at school under the wisest and most experienced of
+teachers. You have mismanaged him. Now he will be treated
+professionally; and Mr. Scantlebray superintends not the studies only,
+but the amusements of the pupils. He has such a fund of humor in him."
+Obadiah at once produced his pocket-handkerchief and began to fold it.
+"No, dear, no ducky, no rabbit now! You fond thing, you! always
+thinking of giving entertainment to some one. No, nor the parson
+preaching either." He was rolling his hands together and thrusting up
+his thumb as the representative of a sacred orator in his pulpit. "No,
+ducky darling! another time. My husband is quite a godsend to the
+nervously prostrate. He can amuse them by the hour; he never wearies
+of it; he is never so happy as when he is entertaining them. You
+cannot doubt that your brother will be content in the house of such a
+man. Take my word for it; there is nothing like believing that all is
+for the best as it is. Our pupils will soon be going to bed.
+Rolly-poly and prayers, and then to bed--that is the order."
+
+"Oh, let me see Jamie now."
+
+"No, my dear. It would be injudicious. He is settling in; he is
+becoming reconciled, and it would disturb him, and undo what has
+already been done. Don't you say so, poppet?"
+
+The poppet nodded his head.
+
+"You see, this great authority agrees with me. Now, this evening
+Jamie and the others shall have an extra treat. They shall have the
+pig eating out of the trough. There--what more can you desire? As soon
+as lights are brought in, then rolly-poly, prayers, and the pig and
+the trough. Another time you shall see him. Not to-night. It is
+inadvisable. Take my word for it, your brother is as happy as a boy
+can be. He has found plenty of companions of the same condition as
+himself."
+
+"But he is _not_ an idiot."
+
+"My dear, we know all about that; very nice and sweet for you to say
+so--isn't it duckie?"
+
+The duckie agreed it was so.
+
+"There is the bell. My dear, another time. You will promise to come
+and see me again? I have had such a delightful talk with you.
+Good-night, good-night. 'All is for the best in the best of worlds.'
+Put that maxim under your head and sleep upon it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+A NIGHT EXCURSION.
+
+
+Some people are ever satisfied with what is certain to give themselves
+least trouble, especially if that something concerns other persons.
+
+Mr. Menaida was won over by the volubility of Mrs. Scantlebray and the
+placidity of Mr. Scantlebray to the conviction that Jamie was in the
+very best place he could possibly be in. A lady who called Judith "my
+dear" and her husband "duckie" must have a kindly heart, and a
+gentleman like Mr. Obadiah, so full of resources, could not fail to
+divert and gratify the minds of those under his charge, and banish
+care and sorrow. And as Mr. Menaida perceived that it would be a
+difficult matter to liberate Jamie from the establishment where he
+was, and as it was an easy matter to conclude that the establishment
+was admirably adapted to Jamie, he was content that Aunt Dionysia had
+chosen the wisest course in putting him there, and that it would be to
+the general advantage to cherish this opinion. For, in the first
+place, it would pacify Judith, and then, by pacifying her, would give
+himself none of that inconvenience, that running to and fro between
+Polzeath and Wadebridge, that consultation of law-books, that
+correspondence, that getting of toes and fingers into hot water,
+likely to result from the impatience, the unflagging eagerness of
+Judith to liberate her brother.
+
+Accordingly Uncle Zachie used his best endeavors to assure Judith that
+Jamie certainly was happy, had never been so happy in his life before,
+and that, under the treatment of so kind and experienced a man as Mr.
+Obadiah Scantlebray, there was reason to believe that in a short time
+Jamie would issue from under his tuition a light so brilliant as to
+outshine the beacon on Trevose Head.
+
+Judith was unconvinced. Love is jealous and timorous. She feared lest
+all should not be as was represented. There was an indefinable
+something in Mrs. Scantlebray that roused her suspicion. She could not
+endure that others should step into the place of responsibility toward
+Jamie she had occupied so long, and which she had so solemnly assured
+her father she would never abandon. Supposing that Scantlebray and his
+wife were amiable and considerate persons, might they not so influence
+the fickle Jamie as to displace her from his affections and insinuate
+themselves in her room?
+
+But it was not this mainly that troubled her. She was tormented with
+the thought of the lonely, nervous child in the strange house, among
+strange people, in desolation of heart and deadly fear.
+
+Whenever he had become excited during the day he was sleepless at
+night, and had to be soothed and coaxed into slumber. On such
+occasions she had been wont, with the infinite, inexhaustible patience
+of true love, to sit by his bed, pacifying his alarms, allaying his
+agitation, singing to him, stroking his hair, holding his hand, till
+his eyes closed. And how often, just as he seemed about to drop
+asleep, had he become again suddenly awake, through some terror, or
+some imagined discomfort? then all the soothing process had to be gone
+through again, and it had always been gone through without a murmur or
+an impatient word.
+
+Now Jamie was alone--or perhaps worse than alone--in a dormitory of
+idiots, whose strange ways filled him with terror, and his dull mind
+would be working to discover how he came to be there, how it was that
+his Ju was not with him. Who would lull his fears, who sing to him old
+familiar strains? Would any other hand rest on the hot brow and hold
+it down on the pillow?
+
+Judith looked up to heaven, to the stars already glimmering there. She
+was not hearkening to the talk of Uncle Zachie: she was thinking her
+own thoughts. She was indeed walking back to Polzeath; but her mind
+was nailed to that dull drab house in the suburbs of Wadebridge with
+the brass plate on the door, inscribed, "Mr. Scantlebray, Surgeon." As
+her eyes were raised to the stars, she thought of her father. He was
+above, looking down on her, and it seemed to her that in the flicker
+of the stars she saw the trouble in her father's face at the knowledge
+that his children were parted, and his poor little half-bright boy
+was fallen among those who had no love for him, might have no patience
+with his waywardness, would not make allowance for his infirmities.
+
+She sobbed, and would not be comforted by Mr. Menaida's assurances.
+Tired, foot-weary, but more tired and weary in heart and mind, she
+reached the cottage. She could not sleep; she was restless. She sought
+Jamie's room, and seated herself on the chair by his little bed, and
+sobbed far on into the night. Her head ached, as did her burning and
+blistered feet; and as she sat she dozed off, then awoke with a start,
+so distinctly did she seem to hear Jamie's voice--his familiar tone
+when in distress--crying, "Ju! Come to me, Ju!" So vividly did the
+voice sound to her that she could not for a moment or two shake off
+the conviction that she had in reality heard him. She thought that he
+must have called her. He must be unhappy. What were those people doing
+to him? Were they tormenting the poor little frightened creature? Were
+they putting him into a dark room by himself, and was he nearly mad
+with terror? Were they beating him, because he cried out in the night
+and disturbed the house?
+
+She imagined him sitting up on a hard bed, shivering with fear,
+looking round him in the dark, and screaming for her--and she could
+not help him.
+
+"Oh, Jamie!" she cried, and threw herself on her knees and put her
+hands over her eyes to shut out the horrible sight, over her ears to
+close them to the piercing cry. "They will drive him mad! Oh, papa! my
+papa! what will you say to me? Oh, my Jamie! what can I do for you?"
+
+She was half mad herself, mad with fancies, conjured up by the fever
+of distress into which she had worked herself. What could she do? She
+could not breathe in that room. She could not breathe in the house.
+She could not remain so far from Jamie--and he crying for her. His
+voice rang still in her ears. It sounded in her heart, it drew her
+irresistibly away. If she could but be outside that drab establishment
+in the still night, to listen, and hear if all were quiet within, or
+whether Jamie were calling, shrieking for her. He would cry himself
+into fits. He would become really deranged, unless he were pacified.
+Oh! those people!--she imagined they were up, not knowing what to do
+with the boy, unable to soothe him, and were now wishing that she
+were there, wishing they had not sent her away.
+
+Judith was in that condition which is one of half craze through
+brooding on her fears, through intense sympathy with the unhappy boy
+so ruthlessly spirited away, through fever of the blood, caused by
+long-protracted nervous strain, through over-weariness of mind and
+body. Jamie's distress, his need for her became an idea that laid hold
+of her, that could not be dispelled, that tortured her into
+recklessness. She could not lie on her bed, she could not rest her
+head for one moment. She ran to the window, panting, and smoked the
+glass with her burning breath, so that she could not see through it.
+
+The night was still, the sky clear, and there were stars in it. Who
+would be abroad at that time? What danger would ensue to her if she
+went out and ran back to Wadebridge? If any foot were to be heard on
+the road, she could hide. She had gone out at night in storm to save
+Cruel Coppinger--should she not go out in still starlight to aid her
+own twin-brother, if he needed her? Providence had shielded her
+before--it would shield her now.
+
+The house was quiet. Mr. Menaida had long ago gone to bed, and was
+asleep. His snores were usually audible at night through the cottage.
+Jump was asleep, sound in sleep as any hard-worked sewing-wench.
+Judith had not undressed, had not taken off her shoes; she had
+wandered, consumed by restlessness, between her own room and that of
+her brother.
+
+It was impossible for her to remain there. She felt that she would die
+of imaginings of evil unless she were near Jamie, unless there were
+naught but a wall between him and her.
+
+Judith descended the stairs and once again went forth alone into the
+night, not now to set her face seaward, but landward; before she had
+gone with a defined aim in view, to warn Coppinger of his danger, now
+she was moved by a vague suspicion of evil.
+
+The night was calm, but there was summer lightning on the horizon,
+attended by no thunder, a constant flicker, sometimes a flare, as
+though some bonfire were kindled beyond the margin of the world, that
+was being stirred and added to. The air was close.
+
+Judith had no one to look to in the world to help her and Jamie--not
+her aunt, her sole relative, it was she who had sent her brother to
+this place of restraint; not Mr. Menaida, he had not the moral courage
+and energy of purpose to succor her in her effort to release Jamie;
+not Captain Coppinger--him she dare not ask, lest he should expect too
+much in return. The hand of misfortune was heavy on the girl; if
+anything was to be done to relieve the pressure, she must do it
+herself.
+
+As she was going hastily along the lane she suddenly halted. She heard
+some one a little way before her. There was no gate near by which she
+could escape. The lane was narrow, and the hedges low, so as not to
+afford sufficient shadow to conceal her. By the red summer flashes she
+saw a man reeling toward her round the corner. His hat was on one side
+of his head, and he lurched first to one side of the lane, then to the
+other.
+
+    "There went three trav'llers over the moor--
+      Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph! said he.
+    Three trav'llers over the moor so green,
+    The one sang high, the third sang low,
+      Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph! said he,
+    And the second he trolled between."
+
+Then he stood still.
+
+"Huph! huph!" he shouted. "Some one else go on, I'm done
+for--'Ri-tiddle-de.'"
+
+He saw Judith by the starlight and by the flicker of the lightning,
+and put his head on one side and capered toward her with arms
+extended, chirping--"'Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph! said he.'"
+
+Judith started on one side, and the drunken man pursued her, but in so
+doing, stumbled, and fell sprawling on the ground. He scrambled to his
+feet again, and began to swear at her and sent after her a volley of
+foul and profane words. Had he contented himself with this it would
+have been bad enough, but he also picked up a stone and threw it.
+Judith felt a blow on her head, and the lightning flashes seemed to be
+on all sides of her, and then great black clouds to be rising like
+smoke out of the earth about her. She staggered into the hedge, and
+sank on her knees.
+
+But fear lest the tipsy ruffian should pursue her nerved her to make
+an effort to escape. She quickly rose and ran along the lane, turned
+the corner, and ran on till her feet would no longer bear her, and
+her breath failed. Then, looking back, and seeing that she was not
+followed, she seated herself, breathless, and feeling sick, in the
+hedge, where a glow-worm was shining, with a calm, steady light, very
+different from the flicker of the stars above.
+
+As she there sat, she was conscious of something warm on her neck, and
+putting her hand up, felt that it was moist. She held her fingers to
+the faint glow of the worm in the grass; there was a dark stain on her
+hand, and she was sure that it was blood.
+
+She felt her head swim, and knew that in another moment she would lose
+consciousness, unless she made an effort to resist. Hastily she bound
+a white handkerchief about her head where wounded by the stone, to
+stay the flow, and walked resolutely forward.
+
+There was now a shadow stealing up the sky to the south, and obscuring
+the stars, a shadow behind which danced and wavered the electrical
+light, but Judith heard no thunder, she had not the leisure to listen
+for it; all her anxiety was to reach Wadebridge. But the air, the
+oppressively sultry air, was charged with sound, the mutter and growl
+of the Atlantic. The ocean, never at rest, ever gives forth a voice,
+but the volume of its tone varies. Now it was loud and threatening,
+loud and threatening as it had been on that afternoon when Judith sat
+with her father in the rectory garden, tossing guelder-roses. Then,
+the air had been still, but burdened with the menace of the sea. So it
+was now at midnight; the ocean felt the influence of the distant storm
+that was playing far away to the south.
+
+Judith could not run now. Her feet were too sore, her strength had
+given way. Resolute though her will might be, it could not inspire
+with masculine strength the fragile little body, recently recovered
+from sickness. But it carried her into the suburbs of Wadebridge, and
+in the starlight she reached the house of Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray, and
+stood before it, looking up at it despairingly. It was not drab in
+color now, it was lampblack against a sky that flashed in the
+russet-light. The kerchief she had tied about her head had become
+loose. Still looking at the ugly, gloomy house, she put up her arms
+and rebound it, knotting the ends more tightly, using care not to
+cover her ears, as she was intent to hear the least sound, that
+issued from the asylum. But for some time she could hear nothing save
+the rush of her blood in her ears, foaming, hissing, like the tide
+entering a bay over reefs. With this was mingled the mutter of the
+Atlantic, beyond the hills--and now--yes, certainly now--the rumble of
+remote thunder.
+
+Judith had stood on the opposite side of the street looking up at
+Scantlebray's establishment; she saw no light anywhere. Now she drew
+near and crept along the walls. There was a long wing, with its back
+to the street, without a window in the wall, and she thought it
+probable that the inmates of the asylum were accommodated therein, a
+dormitory up-stairs, play or school-rooms below. There Jamie must be.
+The only windows to this wing opened into the garden; and consequently
+Judith stole along the garden wall, turned the angle, down a little
+lane, and stood listening. The wall was high, and the summit encrusted
+with broken glass. She could see the glass prongs by the flicker of
+the lightning. She could not possibly see over the wall; the lane was
+too narrow for her to go back far, and the wall on the further side
+too high to climb. Not a sound from within reached her ears.
+
+In the still night she stood holding her breath.
+
+Then a scream startled her.
+
+It was the cry of a gull flying inland.
+
+If a gull's cry could be heard, then surely that of her brother, were
+he awake and unhappy, and wanting her.
+
+She went further down the wall, and came on a small garden gate in it,
+fastened, locked from within. It had a stone step. On that she sank,
+and laid her head in her hands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+FOUND.
+
+
+Strange mystery of human sympathy! inexplicable, yet very real.
+Irrational, yet very potent. The young mother has accepted an
+invitation to a garden-party. She knows that she never looked better
+than at present, with a shade of delicacy about her. She has got a new
+bonnet that is particularly becoming, and which she desires to wear in
+public. She has been secluded from society for several months, and she
+longs to meet her friends again. She knows that she is interesting,
+and believes herself to be more interesting than she really is. So she
+goes. She is talking, laughing, a little flushed with pleasure, when
+suddenly she becomes grave, the hand that holds the plate of
+raspberries and cream trembles. All her pleasure is gone. She knows
+that baby is crying. Her eye wanders in quest of her husband, she runs
+to him, touches his arm, says--
+
+"Do order the carriage; baby is crying."
+
+It is all fiddle-de-dee. Baby has the best of nurses, the snuggest,
+daintiest little cot; has a fresh-opened tin of condensed Swiss milk.
+Reason tells her that; but no! and nurse cannot do anything to pacify
+the child, baby is crying, nurse is in despair.
+
+In like manner now did Judith argue with herself, without being able
+to convince her heart. Her reason spoke and said to her--
+
+No sound of cries comes from the asylum. There is no light in any
+window. Every inmate is asleep, Jamie among them. He does not need you.
+He is travelling in dreamland. The Scantlebrays have been kind to him.
+The lady is a good, motherly body; the gentleman's whole soul is
+devoted to finding amusement and entertainment for the afflicted
+creatures under his care. He has played tricks before Jamie, made
+shadow-pictures on the wall, told funny stories, made jacks-in-the-box
+with his hands, and Jamie has laughed till he was tired, and his heavy
+eyes closed with a laugh not fully laughed out on his lips. The
+Scantlebrays are paid L70 for taking care of Jamie, and L70 in Judith's
+estimation was a very princely sum. The L70 per annum Mr. Scantlebray
+would corruscate into his richest fun, and Mrs. Scantlebray's heart
+overflowed with warmest maternal affection.
+
+But it was in vain that Judith thus reasoned, her heart would not be
+convinced. An indescribable unrest was in her, and would not be laid.
+She knew by instinct that Jamie wanted her, was crying for her, was
+stretching out his hands in the dark for her.
+
+As she sat on the step not only did reason speak, but judgment also.
+She could do nothing there. She had acted a foolish part in coming all
+that way in the dark, and without a chance of effecting any
+deliverance to Jamie now she had reached her destination. She had
+committed an egregious error in going such a distance from home, from
+anyone who might serve as protector to her in the event of danger, and
+there were other dangers she might encounter than having stones thrown
+at her by drunken men. If the watch were to find her there, what
+explanation of her presence could she give? Would they take her away
+and lock her up for the rest of the night? They could not leave her
+there. Large, warm drops, like tears from angels' eyes, fell out of
+heaven upon her folded hands, and on her bowed neck.
+
+She began to feel chilled after having been heated by her walk, so she
+rose, and found that she had become stiff. She must move about,
+however sore and weary her feet might be.
+
+She had explored the lane as far as was needful. She could not see
+from it into the house, the garden, and playground. Was it possible
+that there was a lane on the further side of the house which would
+give her the desired opportunity?
+
+Judith resolved to return by the way she had come, down the lane into
+the main street, then to walk along the front of the house, and
+explore the other side. As she was descending the lane she noticed,
+about twenty paces from the door, on the further side, a dense mass of
+Portugal laurel that hung over the opposite wall, casting a shadow of
+inky blackness into the lane. This she considered might serve her as
+shelter when the threatening storm broke and the rain poured down. She
+walked through this shadow, and would have entered the street, but
+that she perceived certain dark objects passing noiselessly along it.
+By the flashes of lightning she could distinguish men with laden
+asses, and one she saw turn to enter the lane where she was. She drew
+back hastily into the blot cast by the bush that swung its luxuriance
+over the wall, and drew as closely back to the wall as was possible.
+Thus she could not be seen, for the reflection of the lightning would
+not fall on her; every glare made the shadow seem the deeper. Though
+concealed herself, and wholly invisible, she was able to distinguish a
+man with an ass passing by, and then halting at the door in the wall
+that surrounded Mr. Obadiah's tenement. There the man knocked, and
+uttered a peculiar whistle. As there ensued no immediate answer he
+knocked and whistled again, whereupon the door was opened; and a word
+or two was passed.
+
+"How many do you want, sir?"
+
+"Four."
+
+"Any to help to carry the half-ankers!"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, no odds. I'll carry one and you the t'other. We'll make two
+journeys, that's all. I can't leave Neddy for long, but I'll go with
+you to your house-door."
+
+Probably the person addressed nodded a reply in the darkness; he made
+no audible answer.
+
+"Which is it, Mr. Obadiah, rum or brandy?"
+
+"Brandy."
+
+"Right you are, then. These are brandy. You won't take three brandies
+and one rum?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"All right, sir; lead the way. It's deuced dark."
+
+Judith knew what this signified. Some of the householders of
+Wadebridge were taking in their supplies of spirits from the
+smugglers. Owing to the inconvenience of it being unlawful to deal
+with these men for such goods, they had to receive their purchases at
+night, and with much secrecy. There were watchmen at Wadebridge, but
+on such nights they judiciously patrolled another quarter of the town
+than that which received its supplies. The watchmen were municipal
+officials, and were not connected with the excise, had no particular
+regard for the inland revenue, anyhow, owed no duties to the officers
+of the coast-guard. Their superior was the mayor, and the mayor was
+fond of buying his spirits at the cheapest market.
+
+Both men disappeared. The door was left open behind them. The
+opportunity Judith had desired had come. Dare she seize it? For a
+moment she questioned her heart, then she resolutely stepped out of
+the shadow of the Portugal laurel, brushed past the patient ass,
+entered the grounds of Mr. Scantlebray's establishment through the
+open garden-door, and drew behind a syringa bush to consider what
+further step she should take. In another moment both men were back.
+
+"You are sure you don't mind one rum?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Right you are, then; I'll have it for you direct. The other kegs are
+at t'other end of the lane. You come with me, and we'll have 'em down
+in a jiffy."
+
+Judith heard both men pass out of the door. She looked toward the
+house. There was a light low down in a door opening into the garden or
+yard where she was.
+
+Not a moment was to be lost. As soon as the last kegs were brought in
+the house-door would be locked, and though she had entered the garden
+she would be unable to penetrate to the interior of the asylum.
+Without hesitation, strong in her earnest purpose to help Jamie to the
+utmost of her power, and grasping at every chance that offered, she
+hastened, cautiously indeed, but swiftly, to the door whence the light
+proceeded. The light was but a feeble one, and cast but a fluttering
+ray upon the gravel. Judith was careful to walk where it could not
+fall on her dress.
+
+The whole garden front of the house was now before her. She was in a
+sort of gravelled yard, with some bushes against the walls. The main
+block of the house lay to her right, and the view of it was
+intercepted by a wall. Clearly the garden space was divided, one
+portion for the house, and another, that into which she had entered,
+for the wing. That long wing rose before her with its windows all dark
+above, and the lower or ground floor also dark. Only from the door
+issued the light, and she saw that a guttering tallow candle was set
+there on the floor.
+
+Hastily she drew back. She heard feet on the gravel. The men were
+returning, Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray and the smuggler, each laden with a
+small cask of spirits.
+
+"Right you are," said the man, as he set his keg down in the passage,
+"that's yours, and I could drink your health, sir."
+
+"You wouldn't--prefer?--" Mr. Scantlebray made contortions with his
+hands between the candle and the wall, and threw a shadow on the
+surface of plaster.
+
+"No, thanks sir, I'd prefer a shilling."
+
+Mr. Scantlebray fumbled in his pockets, grunted "Humph! purse
+up-stairs." Felt again, "No," groped inside the breast of his
+waistcoat, "another time--not forget."
+
+The man muttered something not complimentary, and turned to go through
+the yard.
+
+"Must lock door," said Mr. Obadiah, and went after him. Now was
+Judith's last chance. She took it at once; the moment the backs of the
+two men were turned she darted into the passage and stood back against
+the door out of the flare of the candle.
+
+The passage was a sort of hall with slated floor, the walls plastered
+and whitewashed at one time, but the wash and plaster had been picked
+off to about five feet from the floor wherever not strongly adhesive,
+giving a diseased and sore look to the wall. The slates of the floor
+were dirty and broken.
+
+Judith looked along the hall for a place to which she could retreat on
+the return of the proprietor of the establishment. She had entered
+that portion of the building tenanted by the unhappy patients. The
+meanness of the passage, the picked walls, the situation on one side
+of the comfortable residence showed her this. A door there was on the
+right, ajar, that led into the private dwelling-house, but into that
+Judith did not care to enter. One further down on the left probably
+gave access to some apartment devoted to the "pupils," as Mrs.
+Scantlebray called the patients.
+
+There was, however, another door that was open, and from it descended
+a flight of brick steps to what Judith conjectured to be the cellars.
+At the bottom a second candle, in a tin candlestick, was guttering and
+flickering in the draught that blew in at the yard door, and descended
+to this underground story. It was obvious to the girl that Mr.
+Scantlebray was about to carry or roll his kegs just acquired down the
+brick steps to his cellar. For that purpose he had set a candle there.
+It would not therefore do for her, to attempt to avoid him, to descend
+to this lower region. She must pass the door that gave access to the
+cellars, a door usually locked, as she judged, for a large iron key
+stood in the lock, and enter the room, the door of which opened
+further down the passage.
+
+She was drawing her skirts together, so as to slip past the candle on
+the passage floor for this purpose, when her heart stood still as
+though she had received a blow on it. She heard--proceeding from
+somewhere beneath down those steps--a moan, then a feeble cry of "Ju!
+Where are you? Ju! Ju! Ju!"
+
+She all but did cry out herself. A gasp of pain and horror did escape
+her, and then, without a thought of how she could conceal herself, how
+avoid Scantlebray, she ran down the steps to the cellar.
+
+On reaching the bottom she found that there were four doors, two of
+which had square holes cut in them, but with iron bars before these
+openings. The door of one of the others, one on the left, was open,
+and she could see casks and bottles. It was a wine and spirit cellar,
+and the smell of wine issued from it.
+
+She stood panting, frightened, fearing what she might discover,
+doubting whether she had heard her brother's voice or whether she was
+a prey to fancy. Then again she heard a cry and a moan. It issued from
+the nearest cell on her right hand.
+
+"Jamie! my Jamie!" she cried.
+
+"Ju! Ju!"
+
+The door was hasped, with a crook let into a staple so that it might,
+if necessary, be padlocked. But now it was simply shut and a wooden
+peg was thrust through the eye of the crook.
+
+She caught up the candle, and with trembling hand endeavored to
+unfasten the door, but so agitated was she, so blinded with horror,
+that she could not do so till she had put down the candle again. Then
+she forced the peg from its place and raised the crook. She stooped
+and took up the candle once more, and then, with a short breath and a
+contraction of the breast, threw open the door, stepped in, and held
+up the light.
+
+The candle flame irradiated what was but a cellar compartment vaulted
+with brick, once whitewashed, now dirty with cobwebs and accumulated
+dust and damp stains. It had a stone shelf on one side, on which lay a
+broken plate and some scraps of food.
+
+Against the further wall was a low truckle bed, with a mattress on it
+and some rags of blanket. Huddled on this lay Jamie, his eyes dilated
+with terror, and yet red with weeping. His clothes had been removed,
+except his shirt. His long red-gold hair had lost all its gloss and
+beauty, it was wet with sweat and knotted. The boy's face was ghastly
+in the flickering light.
+
+Judith dropped the candle on the floor, and rushed with outstretched
+arms, and a cry--piercing, but beaten back on her by the walls and
+vault of the cell--and caught the frightened boy to her heart.
+
+"Jamie! O my Jamie! my Jamie!"
+
+She swayed herself, crying, in the bed, holding him to her, with no
+thought, her whole being absorbed in a spasm of intensest, most
+harrowing pain. The tallow candle was on the slate floor, fallen,
+melting, spluttering, flaming.
+
+And in the door, holding the brandy keg upon his shoulders, stood,
+with open eyes and mouth, Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+AN UNWILLING PRISONER.
+
+
+Mr. Obadiah stood open-mouthed staring at the twins clasped in each
+other's arms, unable at first to understand what he saw. Then a
+suspicion entered his dull brain, he uttered a growl, put down the
+keg, his heavy brows contracted, he shut his mouth, drawing in his
+lips so that they disappeared, and he clenched his hands.
+
+"Wait--I'll beat you!" he said.
+
+The upset candle was on the floor, now half molten, with a pond of
+tallow burning with a lambent blue flicker trembling on extinction,
+then shooting up in a yellow flame.
+
+In that uncertain, changeful, upward light the face of the man looked
+threatening, remorseless, so that Judith, in a paroxysm of fear for
+her brother and herself dropped, on her knee, and caught at the tin
+candlestick as the only weapon of defence accessible. It was hot and
+burnt her fingers, but she did not let go; and as she stood up the
+dissolved candle fell from it among some straw that littered the
+pavement. This at once kindled and blazed up into golden flame.
+
+For a moment the cell was full of light. Mr. Obadiah at once saw the
+danger. His casks of brandy were hard by--the fume of alcohol was in
+the air--if the fire spread and caught his stores a volume of flame
+would sweep up the cellar stair and set his house on fire. He hastily
+sprang in, and danced about the cell stamping furiously at the ignited
+wisps. Judith, who saw him rush forward, thought he was about to
+strike her and Jamie, and raised the tin candlestick in self-defence;
+but when she saw him engaged in trampling out the fire, tearing at the
+bed to drag away the blankets with which to smother the embers, she
+drew Jamie aside from his reach, sidled, with him clinging to her,
+along the wall, and by a sudden spring reached the passage, slammed
+the door, fastened the hasp, and had the gaoler secured in his own
+gaol.
+
+For a moment Mr. Scantlebray was unaware that he was a prisoner, so
+busily engaged was he in trampling out the fire, but the moment he did
+realize the fact he slung himself with all his force against the door.
+
+Judith looked round her. There was now no light in the cellar but the
+feeble glimmer that descended the stair from the candle above. The
+flame of that was now burning steadily, for the door opening into the
+yard was shut, and the draught excluded.
+
+In dragging Jamie along with her, Judith had drawn forth a scanty
+blanket that was about his shoulders. She wrapped it round the boy.
+
+"Let me out!" roared Scantlebray. "Don't understand. Fun--rollicking
+fun."
+
+Judith paid no attention to his bellow. She was concerned only to
+escape with Jamie. She was well aware that her only chance was by
+retaining Mr. Obadiah where he was.
+
+"Let me out!" again shouted the prisoner; and he threw himself
+furiously against the door. But though it jarred on its hinges and
+made the hasp leap, he could not break it down. Nevertheless, so big
+and strong was the man that it was by no means improbable that his
+repeated efforts might start a staple or snap a hinge band, and he and
+the door might come together crashing down into the passage between
+the cells.
+
+Judith drew Jamie up the steps, and on reaching the top shut the
+cellar door. Below, Mr. Scantlebray roared, swore, shouted, and beat
+against the door; but now his voice, and the sound of his blows were
+muffled, and would almost certainly be inaudible in the
+dwelling-house. No wonder that Judith had not heard the cries of her
+brother. It had never occurred to her that the hapless victim of the
+keeper of the asylum might be chastised, imprisoned, variously
+maltreated in regions underground, whence no sounds of distress might
+reach the street, and apprise the passers-by that all was not laughter
+within. Standing in the passage or hall above, Judith said:
+
+"Oh, Jamie! where are your clothes?"
+
+The boy looked into her face with a vacant and distressed expression.
+He could not answer, he did not even understand her question, so
+stupefied was he by his terrors, and the treatment he had undergone.
+
+Judith took the candle from the floor and searched the hall. Nothing
+was there save Mr. Scantlebray's coat, which he had removed and cast
+across one of the kegs when he prepared to convey them down to his
+cellar. Should she take that? She shook her head at the thought. She
+would not have it said that she had taken anything out of the house,
+except only--as that was an extreme necessity, the blanket wrapped
+about Jamie. She looked into the room that opened beyond the cellar
+door. It was a great bare apartment, containing only a table and some
+forms.
+
+"Jamie!" she said, "we must get away from this place as we are. There
+is no help for it. Do you not know where your clothes were put?"
+
+He shook his head. He clung to her with both arms, as though afraid,
+if he held by but one that she would slip away and vanish, as one
+drowning, clinging to the only support that sustained him from
+sinking.
+
+"Come, Jamie! It cannot be otherwise!" She set down the candle, opened
+the door into the yard, and issued forth into the night along with the
+boy. The clouds had broken, and poured down their deluge of warm
+thunder rain. In the dark Judith was unable to find her direction at
+once, she reached the boundary wall where was no door.
+
+Jamie uttered a cry of pain.
+
+"What is it, dear?"
+
+"The stones cut my feet."
+
+She felt along the wall with one hand till she touched the jamb, then
+pressed against the door itself. It was shut. She groped for the lock.
+No key was in it. She could as little escape from that enclosure as
+she could enter into it from without. The door was very solid, and the
+lock big and secure. What was to be done? Judith considered for a
+moment, standing in the pouring rain through which the lightning
+flashed obscurely, illumining nothing. It seemed to her that there was
+but one course open to her, to return and obtain the key from Mr.
+Obadiah Scantlebray. But it would be no easy matter to induce him to
+surrender it.
+
+"Jamie! will you remain at the door? Here under the wall is some
+shelter. I must go back."
+
+But the boy was frightened at the prospect of being deserted.
+
+"Then--Jamie, will you come back with me to the house?"
+
+No, he would not do that.
+
+"I must go for the key, dearest," she said, coaxingly. "I cannot open
+the door, so that we can escape, unless I have the key. Will you do
+something for Ju? Sit here, on the steps, where you are somewhat
+screened from the rain, and sing to me something, one of our old
+songs--A jolly hawk and his wings were gray? sing that, that I may
+hear your voice and find my way back to you. Oh--and here, Jamie, your
+feet are just the size of mine, and so you shall pull on my shoes.
+Then you will be able to run alongside of me and not hurt your soles."
+
+With a little persuasion she induced him to do as she asked. She took
+off her own shoes and gave them to him, then went across the yard to
+where was the house, she discovered the door by a little streak of
+light below it and the well trampled and worn threshold stone. She
+opened the door, took up the candle and again descended the steps to
+the cellar floor. On reaching the bottom, she held up the light and
+saw that the door was still sound; at the square barred opening was
+the red face of Mr. Scantlebray.
+
+"Let me out," he roared.
+
+"Give me the key of the garden door."
+
+"Will you let me out if I do?"
+
+"No; but this I promise, as soon as I have escaped from your premises
+I will knock and ring at your front door till I have roused the house,
+and then you will be found and released. By that time we shall have
+got well away."
+
+"I will not give you the key."
+
+"Then here you remain," said Judith, and began to reascend the steps.
+It had occurred to her, suddenly, that very possibly the key she
+desired was in the pocket of the coat Mr. Scantlebray had cast off
+before descending to the cellar. She would hold no further
+communication with him till she had ascertained this. He yelled after
+her "Let me out, and you shall have the key." But she paid no
+attention to his promise. On reaching the top of the stairs, she again
+shut the door, and took up his coat. She searched the pockets. No key
+was within.
+
+She must go to him once more.
+
+He began to shout as he saw the flicker of the candle approach. "Here
+is the key, take it, and do as you said." His hand, a great coarse
+hand, was thrust through the opening in the door, and in it was the
+key she required.
+
+"Very well," said she, "I will do as I undertook."
+
+She put her hand, the right hand, up to receive the key. In her left
+was the candlestick. Suddenly he let go the key that clinked down on
+the floor outside, and made a clutch at her hand and caught her by the
+wrist. She grasped the bar in the little window, or he would have
+drawn her hand in, dragged her by the arm up against the door, and
+broken it. He now held her wrist and with his strong hand strove to
+wrench her fingers from their clutch.
+
+"Unhasp the door!" he howled at her.
+
+She did not answer other than with a cry of pain, as he worked with
+his hand at her wrist, and verily it seemed as though the fragile
+bones must snap under his drag.
+
+"Unhasp the door!" he roared again.
+
+With his great fingers and thick nails he began to thrust at and
+ploughed her knuckles; he had her by the wrist with one hand, and he
+was striving to loosen her hold of the bar with the other.
+
+"Unhasp the door!" he yelled a third time, "or I'll break every bone
+in your fingers!" and he brought his fist down on the side of the door
+to show how he would pound them by a blow. If he did not do this at
+once it was because he dreaded by too heavy a blow to strike the bar
+and wound himself while crushing her hand.
+
+She could not hold the iron stanchion for more than another
+instant--and then he would drag her arm in, as a lion in its cage when
+it had laid hold of the incautious visitor, tears him to itself
+through the bars.
+
+Then she brought the candle-flame up against his hand that grasped her
+wrist, and it played round it. He uttered a scream of pain, and let go
+for a moment. But that moment sufficed. She was free. The key was on
+the floor. She stooped to pick it up; but her fingers were as though
+paralyzed, she was forced to take it with the left hand and leave the
+candle on the floor. Then, holding the key she ran up the steps, ran
+out into the yard, and heard her brother wailing, "Ju! I want you!
+Where are you, Ju?"
+
+Guided by his cries she reached the door. The key she put into the
+lock, and with a little effort turned it. The door opened, she and
+Jamie were free.
+
+The door shut behind them. They were in the dark lane, under a pouring
+rain. But Judith thought nothing of the darkness, nothing of the rain.
+She threw her arms round her brother, put her wet cheek against his,
+and burst into tears.
+
+"My Jamie! O my Jamie!"
+
+But the deliverance of her brother was not complete; she must bring
+him back to Polzeath. She could allow herself but a moment for the
+relief of her heart, and then she caught him to her side, and pushed
+on with him along the lane till they entered the street. Here she
+stood for a moment in uncertainty. Was she bound to fulfil her
+engagement to Mr. Obadiah? She had obtained the key, but he had
+behaved to her with treachery. He had not intended the key to be other
+than a bait to draw her within his clutch, that he might torture her
+into opening the door of his cell. Nevertheless, she had the key, and
+Judith was too honorable to take advantage of him.
+
+With Jamie still clinging to her she went up the pair of steps to the
+front door, rang the night-bell, and knocked long and loud. Then, all
+at once her strength that had lasted gave way, and she sank on the
+doorsteps, without indeed losing consciousness, but losing in an
+instant all power of doing or thinking, of striving any more for Jamie
+or for herself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+A RESCUE.
+
+
+A window overhead was thrown open, and a voice that Judith recognized
+as that of Mrs. Obadiah Scantlebray, called: "Who is there?--what is
+wanted?"
+
+The girl could not answer. The power to speak was gone from her. It
+was as though all her faculties, exerted to the full, had at once
+given way. She could not rise from the steps on which she had sunk:
+the will to make the effort was gone. Her head was fallen against the
+jamb of the door and the knot of the kerchief was between her head and
+the wood, and hurt her, but even the will to lift her hands and shift
+the bandage one inch was not present.
+
+The mill-wheel revolves briskly, throwing the foaming water out of its
+buckets, with a lively rattle, then its movement slackens, it strains,
+the buckets fill and even spill, but the wheel seems to be reduced to
+statuariness. That stress point is but for a moment, then the weight
+of the water overbalances the strain, and whirr! round plunges the
+wheel, and the bright foaming water is whisked about, and the buckets
+disgorge their contents.
+
+It is the same with the wheel of human life. It has its periods of
+rapid and glad revolutions, and also its moments of supreme tension,
+when it is all but overstrung--when its movement is hardly
+perceptible. The strain put on Judith's faculties had been excessive,
+and now those faculties failed her, failed her absolutely. The
+prostration might not last long--it might last forever. It is so
+sometimes when there has been overexertion; thought stops, will ceases
+to act, sensation dies into numbness, the heart beats slow, slower,
+then perhaps stops finally.
+
+It was not quite come to that with Judith. She knew that she had
+rushed into danger again, the very danger from which she had just
+escaped, she knew it, but she was incapable of acting on the
+knowledge.
+
+"Who is below?" was again called from an upper window.
+
+Judith, with open eyes, heard that the rain was still falling heavily,
+heard the shoot of water from the roof plash down into the runnel of
+the street, felt the heavy drops come down on her from the architrave
+over the door, and she saw something in the roadway: shadows stealing
+along the same as she had seen before, but passing in a reversed
+direction. These were again men and beasts, but their feet and hoofs
+were no longer inaudible, they trod in the puddles and splashed and
+squelched the water and mud about, at each step. The smugglers had
+delivered the supplies agreed on, at the houses of those who dealt
+with them, and were now returning, the asses no longer laden.
+
+And Judith heard the door behind her unbarred and unchained and
+unlocked. Then it was opened, and a ray of light was cast into the
+street, turning falling rain-drops into drops of liquid gold, and
+revealing, ghostly, a passing ass and its driver.
+
+"Who is there? _Is_ anyone there?"
+
+Then the blaze of light was turned on Judith, and her eyes shut with a
+spasm of pain.
+
+In the doorway stood Mrs. Scantlebray half-garmented, that is to say
+with a gown on, the folds of which fell in very straight lines from
+the waist to her feet, and with a night-cap on her head, and her curls
+in papers. She held a lamp in her hand, and this was now directed upon
+the girl, lying, or half-sitting in the doorway, her bandaged head
+leaning against the jamb, one hand in her lap, the fingers open, the
+other falling at her side, hanging down the steps, the fingers in the
+running current of the gutter, in which also was one shoeless foot.
+
+"Why--goodness! mercy on us!" exclaimed Mrs. Scantlebray,
+inconsiderately thrusting the lamp close into the girl's face. "It can
+never be--yet--surely it is----"
+
+"Judith!" exclaimed a deep voice, the sound of which sent a sudden
+flutter through the girl's nerves and pulses. "Judith!" and from out
+the darkness and falling rain plunged a man in full mantle wrapped
+about him and overhanging broad-brimmed hat. Without a word of excuse
+he snatched the light from Mrs. Scantlebray and raised it above
+Judith's head.
+
+"Merciful powers!" he cried, "what is the meaning of this! What has
+happened? There is blood here--blood! Judith--speak. For heaven's
+sake, speak!"
+
+The light fell on his face, his glittering eyes--and she slightly
+turned her head and looked at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but
+could form no words, but the appeal in those dim eyes went to his
+heart, he thrust the lamp roughly back into Mrs. Scantlebray's hand,
+knelt on the steps, passed an arm under the girl, the other about her
+waist, lifted and carried her without a word inside the house. There
+was a leather-covered ottoman in the hall, and he laid her on that,
+hastily throwing off his cloak, folding it, and placing it as a pillow
+beneath her head.
+
+Then, on one knee at her side, he drew a flask from his breast pocket,
+and poured some drops of spirit down her throat. The strength of the
+brandy made her catch her breath, and brought a flash of red to her
+cheek. It had served its purpose, helped the wheel of life to turn
+beyond the stress point at which it threatened to stay wholly. She
+moved her head, and looked eagerly about her for Jamie. He was not
+there. She drew a long breath, a sigh of relief.
+
+"Are you better?" he asked, stooping over her, and she could read the
+intensity of his anxiety in his face.
+
+She tried to smile a reply, but the muscles of her lips were too stiff
+for more than a flutter.
+
+"Run!" ordered Captain Coppinger, standing up, "you woman, are you a
+fool? Where is your husband? He is a doctor, fetch him. The girl might
+die."
+
+"He--Captain--he is engaged, I believe, taking in his stores."
+
+"Fetch him! Leave the lamp here."
+
+Mrs. Scantlebray groped about for a candle, and having found one,
+proceeded to light it.
+
+"I'm really shocked to appear before you, Captain, in this state of
+undress."
+
+"Fetch your husband!" said Coppinger, impatiently.
+
+Then she withdrew.
+
+The draught of spirits had acted on Judith and revived her. Her breath
+came more evenly, her heart beat regularly, and the blood began to
+circulate again. As her bodily powers returned, her mind began to work
+once more, and again anxiously she looked about her.
+
+"What is it you want?" asked Captain Cruel.
+
+"Where is Jamie?"
+
+He muttered a low oath. Always Jamie. She could think of no one but
+that silly boy.
+
+Then suddenly she recalled her position--in Scantlebray's house, and
+the wife was on the way to the cellars, would find him, release
+him--and though she knew that Coppinger would not suffer Obadiah to
+injure her, she feared, in her present weakness, a violent scene. She
+sat up, dropped her feet on the floor, and stretched both her hands to
+the smuggler.
+
+"Oh, take me! take me from here."
+
+"No, Judith," he answered. "You must have the doctor to see you--after
+that----"
+
+"No! no! take me before he comes. He will kill me."
+
+Coppinger laughed. He would like to see the man who would dare to lay
+a finger on Judith while he stood by.
+
+Now they heard a noise from the wings of the house at the side that
+communicated with the dwelling by a door that Mrs. Scantlebray had
+left ajar. There were exclamations, oaths, a loud, angry voice, and
+the shrill tones of the woman mingled with the bass notes of her
+husband. The color that had risen to the girl's cheeks left them; she
+put her hands on Coppinger's breast and looking him entreatingly in
+the eyes, said:
+
+"I pray you! I pray you!"
+
+He snatched her up in his arms, drew her close to him, went to the
+door, cast it open with his foot, and bore her out into the rain.
+There stood his mare, Black Bess, with a lad holding her.
+
+"Judith, can you ride?"
+
+He lifted her into the saddle.
+
+"Boy," said he, "lead on gently; I will stay her lest she fall."
+
+Then they moved away, and saw through the sheet of falling rain the
+lighted door, and Scantlebray in it, in his shirt sleeves shaking his
+fists, and his wife behind him, endeavoring to draw him back by the
+buckle and strap of his waistcoat.
+
+"Oh, where is Jamie? I wonder where Jamie is?" said Judith, looking
+round her in the dark, but could see no sign of her brother.
+
+There were straggling houses for half a mile--a little gap of garden
+or paddock, then a cottage, then a cluster of trees, and an alehouse,
+then hedges and no more houses. A cooler wind was blowing, dispelling
+the close, warm atmosphere, and the rain fell less heavily. There was
+a faint light among the clouds like a watering of satin. It showed
+that the storm was passing away. The lightning flashes were, moreover,
+at longer intervals, fainter, and the thunder rumbled distantly. With
+the fresher air, some strength and life came back to Judith. The wheel
+though on the turn was not yet revolving rapidly.
+
+Coppinger walked by the horse, he had his arm up, holding Judith, for
+he feared lest in her weakness she might fall, and indeed, by her
+weight upon his hand, he was aware that her power to sustain herself
+unassisted was not come. He looked up at her; he could hardly fail to
+do so, standing, striding so close to her, her wet garments brushing
+his face; but he could not see her, or saw her indistinctly. He had
+thrust her little foot into the leather of his stirrup, as the strap
+was too long for her to use, and he did not tarry to shorten it.
+
+Coppinger was much puzzled to learn how Judith had come at such an
+hour to the door of Mrs. Obadiah Scantlebray, shoeless, and with
+wounded head, but he asked no questions. He was aware that she was not
+in a condition to answer them.
+
+He held her up with his right hand in the saddle, and with his left he
+held her foot in the leather. Were she to fall she might drag by the
+foot, and he must be on his guard against that. Pacing in the
+darkness, holding her, his heart beat, and his thoughts tossed and
+boiled within him. This girl so feeble, so childish, he was coming
+across incessantly, thrown in her way to help her, and he was bound to
+her by ties invisible, impalpable, and yet of such strength that he
+could not break through them and free himself.
+
+He was a man of indomitable will, of iron strength, staying up this
+girl, who had flickered out of unconsciousness and might slide back
+into it again at any moment, and yet he felt, he knew that he was
+powerless before her--that if she said to him, "Lie down that I may
+trample on you," he would throw himself in the foul road without a
+word to be trodden under by these shoeless feet. There was but one
+command she could lay on him that he would not perform, and that was
+"Let me go by myself! Never come near me!" That he could not obey. The
+rugged moon revolves about the earth. Could the moon fly away into
+space were the terrestrial orb to bid it cease to be a satellite? And
+if it did, whither would it go? Into far off space, into outer
+darkness and deathly cold, to split and shiver into fragments in the
+inconceivable frost in the abyss of blackness. And Judith threw a sort
+of light and heat over this fierce, undisciplined man, that trembled
+in his veins and bathed his heart, and was to him a spring of beauty,
+a summer of light. Could he leave her? To leave her would be to be
+lost to everything that had now begun to transform his existence. The
+thought came over him now, as he walked along in silence--that she
+might bid him let go, and he felt that he could not obey. He must hold
+her, he must hold her not _from_ him on the saddle, not as merely
+staying her up, but to himself, to his heart, as his own, his own
+forever.
+
+Suddenly an exclamation from Judith: "Jamie! Jamie!"
+
+Something was visible in the darkness, something whitish in the hedge.
+In another moment it came bounding up.
+
+"Ju! oh, Ju! I ran away!"
+
+"You did well," she said. "Now I am happy. You are saved."
+
+Coppinger looked impatiently round and saw by the feeble light that
+the boy had come close to him, and that he was wrapped up in a
+blanket.
+
+"He has nothing on him," said Judith. "Oh, poor Jamie!"
+
+She had revived; she was almost herself again. She held herself more
+firmly in the saddle and did not lean so heavily on Coppinger's hand.
+
+Coppinger was vexed at the appearance of the boy, Jamie; he would fain
+have paced along in silence by the side of Judith. If she could not
+speak it mattered not so long as he held her. But that this fool
+should spring out of the darkness and join company with him and her,
+and at once awake her interest and loosen her tongue, irritated him.
+But as she was able to speak he would address her, and not allow her
+to talk over his head with Jamie.
+
+"How have you been hurt?" he asked. "Why have you tied that bandage
+about your head?"
+
+"I have been cut by a stone."
+
+"How came that?"
+
+"A drunken man threw it at me."
+
+"What was his name?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"That is well for him." Then, after a short pause, he asked further,
+"And your unshod feet?"
+
+"Oh! I gave my shoes to Jamie."
+
+Coppinger turned sharply round on the boy. "Take off those shoes
+instantly and give them back to your sister."
+
+"No--indeed, no," said Judith. "He is running and will cut his poor
+feet--and I, through your kindness, am riding."
+
+Coppinger did not insist. He asked: "But how comes the boy to be
+without clothes?"
+
+"Because I rescued him, as he was, from the Asylum."
+
+"You--! Is that why you are out at night?"
+
+"Yes. I knew he had been taken by the two Mr. Scantlebrays at
+Wadebridge, and I could not rest. I felt sure he was miserable, and
+was dying for me."
+
+"So--in the night you went to him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But how did you get him his freedom?"
+
+"I found him locked in the black-hole, in the cellar."
+
+"And did Scantlebray look on passively while you released him?"
+
+"Oh, no, I let Jamie out, and locked him in, in his place."
+
+"You--Scantlebray in the black-hole!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Then Coppinger laughed, laughed long and boisterously. His hand that
+held Judith's foot and the stirrup leather shook with his laughter.
+
+"By Heaven!--You are wonderful, very wonderful. Any one who opposes
+you is ill-treated, knocked down and broken, or locked into a black
+hole in the dead of night."
+
+Judith, in spite of her exhaustion, was obliged to smile.
+
+"You see, I must do what I can for Jamie."
+
+"Always Jamie."
+
+"Yes, Captain Coppinger, always Jamie. He is helpless and must be
+thought for. I am mother, nurse, sister to him."
+
+"His providence," sneered Coppinger.
+
+"The means under Providence of preserving him," said Judith.
+
+"And me--would you do aught for me?"
+
+"Did I not come down the cliffs for you?" asked the girl.
+
+"Heaven forgive me that I forgot that for one moment," he answered,
+with vehemence. "Happy--happy--happiest of any in this vile world is
+the man for whom you will think, and scheme and care and dare--as you
+do for Jamie."
+
+"There is none such," said Judith.
+
+"No--I know that," he answered, gloomily, and strode forward with his
+head down.
+
+Ten minutes had elapsed in silence, and Polzeath was approached. Then
+suddenly Coppinger let go his hold of Judith, caught the rein of Black
+Bess, and arrested her. Standing beside Judith, he said, in a peevish,
+low tone:
+
+"I touched your hand, and said I was subject to a queen." He bent,
+took her foot and kissed it. "You repulsed me as subject; you are my
+mistress!--accept me as your slave."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+AN EXAMINATION.
+
+
+Some days had elapsed. Judith had not suffered from her second night
+expedition as she had from the first, but the intellectual abilities
+of Jamie had deteriorated. The fright he had undergone had shaken his
+nerves, and had made him more restless, timid, and helpless than
+heretofore, exacting more of Judith's attention and more trying her
+endurance. But she trusted these ill effects would pass away in time.
+From his rambling talk she had been able to gather some particulars,
+which to a degree modified her opinion relative to the behavior of Mr.
+Obadiah Scantlebray. It appeared from the boy's own account that he
+had been very troublesome. After he had been taken into the wing of
+the establishment that was occupied by the imbeciles, his alarm and
+bewilderment had grown. He had begun to cry and to clamor for his
+release, or for the presence of his sister. As night came on,
+paroxysms of impotent rage had alternated with fits of whining. The
+appearance of his companions in confinement, some of them complete
+idiots, with half-human gestures and faces, had enhanced his terrors.
+He would eat no supper, and when put to bed in the common dormitory
+had thrown off his clothes, torn his sheets, and refused to lie down;
+had sat up and screamed at the top of his voice. Nothing that could be
+done, no representations would pacify him. He prevented his fellow
+inmates of the asylum from sleeping, and he made it not at all
+improbable that his cries would be overheard by passers-by in the
+street, or those occupying neighboring houses, and thus give rise to
+unpleasant surmises, and perhaps inquiry. Finally, Scantlebray had
+removed the boy to the place of punishment, the Black Hole, a
+compartment of the cellars, there to keep him till his lungs were
+exhausted, or his reason gained the upper hand, and Judith supposed,
+with some justice, that Scantlebray had done this only, or chiefly,
+because he himself would be up, and about the cellars, engaged in
+housing his supplies of brandy, and that he had no intention of
+locking the unhappy boy up for the entire night, in solitude, in his
+cellars. He had not left him in complete darkness, for a candle had
+been placed on the ground outside the Black Hole door.
+
+As Judith saw the matter now, it seemed to her that though Scantlebray
+had acted with harshness and lack of judgment there was some
+palliation for his conduct. That Jamie could be most exasperating, she
+knew full well by experience. When he went into one of his fits of
+temper and crying, it took many hours and much patience to pacify him.
+She had spent long time and exhausted her efforts to bring him to a
+subdued frame of mind on the most irrational and trifling occasions,
+when he had been angered. Nothing answered with him then save infinite
+forbearance and exuberant love. On this occasion there was good excuse
+for Jamie's fit, he had been frightened, and frightened out of his few
+wits. As Judith said to herself--had she been treated in the same
+manner, spirited off, without preparation, to a strange house,
+confined among afflicted beings, deprived of every familiar
+companion--she would have been filled with terror, and reasonably so.
+She would not have exhibited it, however, in the same manner as Jamie.
+
+Scantlebray had not acted with gentleness, but he had not, on the
+other hand, exhibited wanton cruelty. That he was a man of coarse
+nature, likely on provocation to break through the superficial veneer
+of amiability, she concluded from her own experience, and she did not
+doubt that those of the unfortunate inmates of the asylum who
+overstrained his forbearance met with very rough handling. But that he
+took a malignant pleasure in harassing and torturing them, that she
+did not believe.
+
+On the day following the escape from the asylum, Judith sent Mr.
+Menaida to Wadebridge with the blanket that had been carried off round
+the shoulders of her brother, and with a request to have Jamie's
+clothes surrendered. Uncle Zachie returned with the garments, they
+were not refused him, and Judith and her brother settled down into the
+routine of employment and amusement as before. The lad assisted Mr.
+Menaida with his bird skins, talking a little more childishly than
+before, and sticking less assiduously to his task; and Judith did her
+needlework and occasionally played on the piano the pieces of music at
+which Uncle Zachie had hammered ineffectually for many years, and she
+played them to the old man's satisfaction.
+
+At last the girl ventured to induce Jamie to recommence his lessons.
+He resisted at first, and when she did, on a rainy day, persuade him
+to set to his school tasks, she was careful not to hold him to them
+for more than a few minutes, and to select those lessons which made
+him least impatient.
+
+There was a "Goldsmith's Geography," illustrated with copper-plates of
+Indians attacking Captain Cook, the geysers, Esquimaux fishing, etc.,
+that always amused the boy. Accordingly, more geography was done
+during these first days of resumption of work than history,
+arithmetic, or reading. Latin had not yet been attempted, as that was
+Jamie's particular aversion. However, the Eton Latin grammar was
+produced, and placed on the table, to familiarize his mind with the
+idea that it had to be tackled some day.
+
+Judith had spread the table with lesson-books, ink, slate, and
+writing-copies, one morning, when she was surprised at the entry of
+four gentlemen, two of whom she recognized immediately as the Brothers
+Scantlebray. The other two she did not know. One was thin faced, with
+red hair, a high forehead extending to the crown, with the hair drawn
+over it, and well pomatumed, to keep it in place, and conceal the
+baldness; the other a short man, in knee-breeches and tan-boots, with
+a red face, and with breath that perfumed the whole room with spirits.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray, senior, came up with both hands extended. "This is
+splendid! How are you? Never more charmed in my life, and ready to
+impart knowledge, as the sun diffuses light. Obadiah, old man, look at
+your pupil--better already for having passed through your hands. I can
+see it at a glance; there's a brightness, a _Je ne sais quoi_ about
+him that was not there before. Old man, I congratulate you. You have a
+gift--shake hands."
+
+The gentlemen seated themselves without invitation. Surprise and
+alarm made Judith forget her usual courtesy. She feared lest the sight
+of his gaolers might excite Jamie. But it was not so. Whether, in his
+confused mind, he did not associate Mr. Obadiah with his troubles on
+that night of distress, or whether his attention was distracted by the
+sight of so many, was doubtful, but Jamie did not seem to be
+disconcerted; rather, on the contrary, he was glad of some excuse for
+escape from lessons.
+
+"We are come," said the red-headed man, "at Miss Trevisa's desire--but
+really, Mr. Scantlebray, for shame of you. Where are your manners?
+Introduce me."
+
+"Mr. Vokins," said Scantlebray, "and the accomplished and charming
+Miss Judith Trevisa, orphing."
+
+"And now, dear young lady," said the red-headed man, "now, positively,
+it is my turn--my friend, Mr. Jukes. Jukes, man! Miss Judith Trevisa."
+
+Then Mr. Vokins coughed into his thin white hand, and said, "We are
+come, naturally--and I am sure you wish what Miss Trevisa wishes--to
+just look at your brother, and give our opinion on his health."
+
+"Oh, he is quite well," said Judith.
+
+"Ah! you think so, naturally, but we would decide for ourselves,
+dearest young lady, though--not for the world would we willingly
+differ from you. But, you know, there are questions on which varieties
+of opinions are allowable, and yet do not disturb the most heartfelt
+friendship. It is so, is it not, Jukes?"
+
+The rubicund man in knee-breeches nodded.
+
+"Shall I begin, Jukes? Why, my fine little man! What an array of
+books! What scholarship! And at your age, too--astounding! What age
+did you say you were?" This to Jamie in an insinuating tone. Jamie
+stared, looked appealingly at Judith, and said nothing.
+
+"We are the same age, we are twins," said Judith.
+
+"Oh! it is not the right thing to appear anxious to know a lady's age.
+We will put it another way, eh, Jukes?"
+
+The red-faced man leaned his hands on his stick, his chin on his
+hands, and winked, as in that position he could not nod.
+
+"Now, my fine little man! When is your birthday? When you have your
+cake--raisin-cake, eh?"
+
+Jamie looked questioningly at his sister.
+
+"Ah! Come, not the day of the month--but the month, eh?"
+
+Jamie could not answer.
+
+"Come now," said the red-headed levy man, stretching his legs before
+him, legs vested in white trousers, strapped down tight. "Come now, my
+splendid specimen of humanity! In which quarter of the year? Between
+sickle and scythe, eh?" He waited, and receiving no answer, pulled out
+a pocket-book and made a note, after having first wetted the end of
+his pencil. "Don't know when he was born. What do you say to that,
+Jukes? Will you take your turn?"
+
+The man with an inflamed face was gradually becoming purple, as he
+leaned forward on his stick, and said, "Humph! a Latin grammar.
+Propria quae maribus. I remember it, but it was a long time ago I
+learned it. Now, whipper-snapper! How do you get on? Propria quae
+maribus--Go on." He waited. Jamie looked at him in astonishment.
+"Come! Tribu--" again he waited. "Come! _Tribuntur mascula dicas._ Go
+on." Again a pause. Then with an impatient growl. "Ut sunt divorum,
+Mars, Bacchus, Apollo. This will never do. Go on with the Scaramouch,
+Vokins. I'll make my annotations."
+
+"He's too hard on my little chap, ain't he?" asked the thin man in
+ducks. "We won't be done. We are not old enough----"
+
+"He is but eighteen," said Judith.
+
+"He is but eighteen," repeated the red-headed man. "Of course he has
+not got so far as that, but musa, musae."
+
+Jamie turned sulky.
+
+"Not musa, musae--and eighteen years! Jukes, this is serious, Jukes;
+eh, Jukes?"
+
+"Now look here, you fellows," said Scantlebray, senior. "You are too
+exacting. It's holiday time, ain't it, Orphing? We won't be put upon,
+not we. We'll sport, and frolic, and be joyful. Look here, Scanty, old
+man, take the slate and draw a pictur' to my describing. Now then,
+Jamie, look at him and hearken to me. He's the funniest old man that
+ever was, and he'll surprise you. Are you ready, Scanty?" Mr. Obadiah
+drew the slate before him, and signed with the pencil to Jamie to
+observe him. The boy was quite ready to see him draw.
+
+"There was once upon a time," began Mr. Scantlebray, senior, "a man
+that lived in a round tower. Look at him, draw it, there you are. That
+is the tower. Go on. And in the tower was a round winder. Do you see
+the winder, Orphing? This man every morning put his hand out of the
+winder to ascertain which way the wind blew. He put it in thus, and
+drew it out thus. No! don't look at me, look at the slate and then
+you'll see it all. Now this man had a large pond, preserved full of
+fish." Scratch, scratch went the pencil on the slate. "Them's the
+fish," said Scantlebray, senior. "Now below the situation of that
+pond, in two huts, lived a pair of thieves. You see them pokey things
+my brother has drawn? Them's the 'uts. When night set in, these wicked
+thieves came walking up to the pond, see my brother drawing their
+respective courses! And on reaching the pond, they opened the sluice,
+and whish! whish! out poured the water." Scratch, scratch, squeak,
+squeak, went the pencil on the slate. "There now! the naughty robbers
+went after fish, and got a goose! Look! a goo-oose."
+
+"Where's the goose?" asked Jamie.
+
+"Where? Before your eyes--under your nose. That brilliant brother of
+mine has drawn one. Hold the slate up, Scanty."
+
+"That's not a goose," said Jamie.
+
+"Not a goose! You don't know what geese are."
+
+"Yes, I do," retorted the boy, resentfully, "I know the wild goose and
+the tame one--which do you call that?"
+
+"Oh, wild goose, of course."
+
+"It's not one. A goose hasn't a tail like that, nor such legs," said
+Jamie, contemptuously.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray, senior, looked at Messrs. Vokins and Jukes and shook
+his head. "A bad case. Don't know a goose when he sees it--and he is
+eighteen."
+
+Both Vokins and Jukes made an entry in their pocket-books.
+
+"Now Jukes," said Vokins, "will you take a turn, or shall I?"
+
+"Oh, you, Vokins," answered Jukes, "I haven't recovered _propria quae
+maribus_, yet."
+
+"Very well, my interesting young friend. Suppose now we change the
+subject and try arithmetic."
+
+"I don't want any arithmetic," said Jamie, sulkily.
+
+"No--come--now we won't call it by that name; suppose some one were
+to give you a shilling."
+
+Jamie looked up interested.
+
+"And suppose he were to say. There--go and buy sweeties with this
+shilling. Tartlets at three for two pence, and barley-sugar at three
+farthings a stick, and----"
+
+"I want my shilling back," said Jamie, looking straight into the face
+of Mr. Scantlebray, senior.
+
+"And that there were burnt almonds at two pence an ounce."
+
+"I want my shilling," exclaimed the boy, angrily.
+
+"Your shilling, puff! puff!" said the red-headed man. "This is ideal,
+an ideal shilling, and ideal jam-tarts, almond rock, burnt almonds or
+what you like."
+
+"Give me back my shilling. I won it fair," persisted Jamie.
+
+Then Judith, distressed, interfered. "Jamie, dear! what do you mean?
+You have no shilling owing to you."
+
+"I have! I have!" screamed the boy. "I won it fair of that man there,
+because I made a rabbit, and he took it from me again."
+
+"Hallucinations," said Jukes.
+
+"Quite so," said Vokins.
+
+"Give me my shilling. It is a cheat!" cried Jamie, now suddenly roused
+into one of his fits of passion.
+
+Judith caught him by the arm, and endeavored to pacify him.
+
+"Let go, Ju! I will have my shilling. That man took it away. He is a
+cheat, a thief. Give me my shilling."
+
+"I am afraid he is excitable," said Vokins.
+
+"Like all irrational beings," answered Jukes. "I'll make a note.
+Rising out of hallucinations."
+
+"I will have my shilling," persisted Jamie. "Give me my shilling or
+I'll throw the ink at you."
+
+He caught up the ink-pot, and before Judith had time to interfere had
+flung it across the table, intending to hit Mr. Scantlebray, senior,
+but not hurt him, and the black fluid was scattered over Mr. Vokins's
+white trousers.
+
+"Bless my life!" exclaimed this gentleman, springing to his feet,
+pulling out his handkerchief to wipe away the ink, and only smearing
+it the more over his "ducks" and discoloring as well, his kerchief.
+"Bless my life--Jukes! a dangerous lunatic. Note at once. Clearly
+comes within the act. Clearly."
+
+In a few minutes all had left, and Judith was endeavoring to pacify
+her irritated brother. His fingers were blackened, and finally she
+persuaded him to go up-stairs and wash his hands clear of the ink.
+
+Then she ran into the adjoining room to Mr. Menaida. "Oh, dear Mr.
+Menaida!" she said, "what does this mean? Why have they been here?"
+
+Uncle Zachie looked grave and discomposed.
+
+"My dear," said he. "Those were doctors, and they have been here, sent
+by your aunt, to examine into the condition of Jamie's intellect, and
+to report on what they have observed. There was a little going beyond
+the law, perhaps, at first. That is why they took it so easily when
+you carried Jamie off. They knew you were with an old lawyer; they
+knew that you or I could sue for a writ of Habeas Corpus."
+
+"But do you really think--that Aunt Dionysia is going to have Jamie
+sent back to that man at Wadebridge?"
+
+"I am certain of it. That is why they came here to-day."
+
+"Can I not prevent it?"
+
+"I do not think so. If you go to law----"
+
+"But if they once get him, they will make an idiot or a madman of
+him."
+
+"Then you must see your aunt and persuade her not to send him there."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER.
+
+
+As Mr. Menaida spoke, Miss Dionysia Trevisa entered, stiff, hard, and
+when her eyes fell on Judith, they contracted with an expression of
+antipathy. In the eyes alone was this observable, for her face was
+immovable.
+
+"Auntie!" exclaimed Judith, drawing her into the sitting-room, and
+pressing her to take the arm chair.
+
+"Oh, Auntie! I have so longed to see you--there have been some
+dreadful men here--doctors I think--and they have been teasing Jamie,
+till they had worked him into one of his temper fits."
+
+"I sent them here, and for good reasons. Jamie is to go back to
+Wadebridge."
+
+"No--indeed no! auntie! do not say that. You would not say it if you
+knew all."
+
+"I know quite enough. More than is pleasing to me. I have heard of
+your outrageous and unbecoming conduct. Hoity! toity! To think that a
+Trevisa--but there you are one only in name--should go out at night,
+about the streets and lanes, like a common stray. Bless me! you might
+have knocked me down with a touch, when I was told of it."
+
+"I did nothing outrageous and unbecoming, aunt. You may be sure of
+that. I am quite aware that I am a Trevisa, and a gentlewoman, and
+something higher than that, aunt--a Christian. My father never let me
+forget that."
+
+"Your conduct was--well I will give it no expletive."
+
+"Aunt, I did what was right. I was sure that Jamie was unhappy and
+wanted me. I cannot tell you how I knew it, but I was certain of it,
+and I had no peace till I went; and, as I found the garden door open,
+I went in, and as I went in I found Jamie locked up in the cellars,
+and I freed him. Had you found him there, you would have done the
+same."
+
+"I have heard all about it. I want no repetition of a very scandalous
+story. Against my will I am burdened with an intolerable obligation,
+to look after an idiot nephew and a niece that is a self-willed and
+perverse Miss."
+
+"Jamie is no idiot," answered Judith, firmly.
+
+"Jamie is what those pronounce him to be, who by their age, their
+profession, and their inquiries are calculated to judge better than an
+ignorant girl, not out of her teens."
+
+"Auntie I believe you have been misinformed. Listen to me, and I will
+tell you what happened. As for those men----"
+
+"Those men were doctors. Perhaps they were misinformed when they went
+through the College of Surgeons, were misinformed by all the medical
+books they have read, were misdirected by all the study of the mental
+and bodily maladies of men they have made, in their professional
+course."
+
+"I wish, dear Aunt Dionysia, you would take Jamie to be with you a few
+weeks, talk to him, play with him, go walks with him, and you will
+never say that he is an idiot. He needs careful management, and also a
+little application----"
+
+"Enough of that theme," interrupted Miss Trevisa, "I have not come
+here to be drawn into an argument, or to listen to your ideas of the
+condition of that unhappy, troublesome, that provoking boy. I wish to
+heaven I had not the responsibility for him, that has been thrust on
+me, but as I have to exercise it, and there is no one to relieve me of
+it, I must do my best, though it is a great expense to me. Seventy
+pounds is not seventy shillings, nor is it seventy pence."
+
+"Aunt, he is not to go back to the asylum. He _must not_ go."
+
+"Hoity-toity! _must not_ indeed. You, a minx of eighteen to dictate to
+me! Must not, indeed! You seem to think that you, and not I, are
+Jamie's guardian."
+
+"Papa entrusted him to me with his last words."
+
+"I know nothing about last words. In his will I am constituted his
+guardian and yours, and as such I shall act as my convenience--conscience
+I mean, dictates."
+
+"But, Aunt! Jamie is not to go back to Wadebridge. Aunt! I entreat
+you! I know what that place is. I have been inside it, you have not.
+And just think of Jamie on the very first night being locked up
+there."
+
+"He richly deserved it, I will be bound."
+
+"Oh, Aunt! How could he? How could he?"
+
+"Of that Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray was the best judge. Why he had to be
+punished you do not know."
+
+"Indeed I do. He cried because the place was strange, and he was among
+strange faces. Aunt--if you were whipped off to Timbuctoo, and
+suddenly found yourself among savages, and in a rush apron, as the
+squaw of a black chief, or whatever they call their wives in Timbuctoo
+land, would you not scream?"
+
+"Judith," said Miss Trevisa, bridling up. "You forget yourself."
+
+"No, Aunt! I am only pleading for Jamie, trying to make you feel for
+him, when he was locked up in an asylum. How would you like it, Aunt,
+if you were snatched away to Barthelmy fair, and suddenly found
+yourself among tight-rope dancers, and Jack Puddings?"
+
+"Judith, I insist on you holding your tongue. I object to being
+associated even in fancy, with such creatures."
+
+"Well--but Jamie was associated, not in fancy, but in horrible
+reality, with idiots."
+
+"Jamie goes to Scantlebray's Asylum to-day."
+
+"Auntie!"
+
+"He is already in the hands of the brothers Scantlebray."
+
+"Oh, Auntie--no--no!"
+
+"It is no pleasure to me to have to find the money, you may well
+believe. Seventy pounds is not, as I said, seventy pence, it is not
+seventy farthings. But duty is duty, and however painful and
+unpleasant and costly, it must be performed."
+
+Then from the adjoining room, "the shop," came Mr. Menaida.
+
+"I beg pardon for an interruption and for interference," said he. "I
+happen to have overheard what has passed, as I was engaged in the next
+room, and I believe that I can make a proposal which will perhaps be
+acceptable to you, Miss Trevisa, and grateful to Miss Judith."
+
+"I am ready to listen to you," said Aunt Dionysia, haughtily.
+
+"It is this," said Uncle Zachie. "I understand that pecuniary matters
+concerning Jamie are a little irksome. Now the boy, if he puts his
+mind to it, can be useful to me. He has a remarkable aptitude for
+taxidermy. I have more orders on my hands than I can attend to. I am a
+gentleman, not a tradesman, and I object to be oppressed--flattened
+out--with the orders piled on top of me. But if the boy will help, he
+can earn sufficient to pay for his living here with me."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Menaida, dear Mr. Menaida! thank you so much," exclaimed
+Judith.
+
+"Perhaps you will allow me to speak," said Miss Trevisa, with
+asperity. "I am guardian, and not you, whatever you may think from
+certain vague expressions breathed casually from my poor brother's
+lips, and to which you have attached an importance he never gave to
+them."
+
+"Aunt, I assure you, my dear papa----"
+
+"That question is closed. We will not reopen it. I am a Trevisa. I
+can't for a moment imagine where you got those ideas. Not from your
+father's family, I am sure. Tight-rope dancers and Timbuctoos,
+indeed!" Then she turned to Mr. Menaida, and said, in her hard,
+constrained voice, as though she were exercising great moral control
+to prevent herself from snapping at him with her teeth. "Your proposal
+is kind and well intentioned, but I cannot accept it."
+
+"Oh, Aunt! why not?"
+
+"That you shall hear. I must beg you not to interrupt me. You are so
+familiar with the manners of Timbuctoo and of Barthelmy Fair, that you
+forget those pertaining to England and polished society." Then,
+turning to Mr. Menaida, she said: "I thank you for your
+well-intentioned proposal, which, however, it is not possible for me
+to close with. I must consider the boy's ulterior advantage, not the
+immediate relief to my sorely-taxed purse. I have thought proper to
+place Jamie with a person, a gentleman of experience, and highly
+qualified to deal with those mentally afflicted. However much I may
+value you, Mr. Menaida, you must excuse me for saying that firmness is
+not a quality you have cultivated with assiduity. Judith, my niece,
+has almost ruined the boy by humoring him. You cannot stiffen a jelly
+by setting it in the sun, or in a chair before the fire, and that is
+what my niece has been doing. The boy must be isinglassed into
+solidity by those who know how to treat him. Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray
+is the man----"
+
+"To manufacture idiots, madam, out of simple innocents, it is worth
+his while at seventy pounds a year," said Uncle Zachie, petulantly.
+
+Miss Trevisa looked at him stonily, and said: "Sir! I suppose you know
+best. But it strikes me that such a statement, relative to Mr. Obadiah
+Scantlebray, is actionable. But you know best, being a solicitor."
+
+Mr. Menaida winced and drew back.
+
+Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, trembling with anxiety and
+some anger. She thought that her aunt was acting in a heartless manner
+toward Jamie, that there was no good reason for refusing the generous
+offer of Uncle Zachie. In her agitation, unable to keep her fingers at
+rest, the girl played with the little chimney ornaments. She must
+occupy her nervous, twitching hands about something; tears of
+distressed mortification were swelling in her heart, and a fire was
+burning in two flames in her cheeks. What could she do to save Jamie?
+What would become of the boy at the asylum? It seemed to her that he
+would be driven out of his few wits, by terror and ill-treatment, and
+distress at leaving her and losing his liberty to ramble about the
+cliffs where he liked. In a vase on the chimney-piece was a bunch of
+peacock's feathers, and in her agitation, not thinking what she was
+about, desirous only of having something to pick at and play with in
+her hands, to disguise the trembling of the fingers, she took out one
+of the plumes and trifled with it, waving it and letting the light
+undulate over its wondrous surface of gold and green and blue.
+
+"As long as I have responsibility for the urchin----" said Miss
+Dionysia.
+
+"Urchin!" muttered Judith.
+
+"As long as I have the charge I shall do my duty according to my
+lights, though they may not be those of a rush-aproned squaw in
+Timbuctoo, nor of a Jack Pudding balancing a feather on his nose."
+There was here a spiteful glance at Judith. "When my niece has a home
+of her own--is settled into a position of security and comfort--then I
+wash my hands of the responsibility; she may do what she likes
+then--bring her brother to live with her if she chooses and her
+husband consents--that will be naught to me."
+
+"And in the mean time," said Judith, holding the peacock's feather
+very still before her, "in the mean time Jamie's mind is withered and
+stunted--his whole life is spoiled. Now--now alone can he be given a
+turn aright and toward growth."
+
+"That entirely depends on you," said Miss Trevisa, coldly. "You know
+best what opportunities have offered----"
+
+"Aunt, what do you mean?"
+
+"Wait," said Uncle Zachie, rubbing his hands. "My boy Oliver is coming
+home. He has written his situation is a good one now."
+
+Miss Trevisa turned on him with a face of marble. "I entirely fail to
+see what your son Oliver has to do with the matter, more than the man
+in the moon. May I trouble you, as you so deeply interest yourself in
+our concerns, to step outside to Messrs. Scantlebray and that boy, and
+ask them to bring him in here. I have told them what the circumstances
+are, and they are prepared."
+
+Mr. Menaida left the room, not altogether unwilling to escape.
+
+"Now," said Aunt Dionysia, "I am relieved to find that for a minute,
+we are by ourselves, not subjected to the prying and eavesdropping of
+the impertinent and meddlesome. Mr. Menaida is a man who never did
+good to himself or to anyone else in his life, though a man with the
+best intentions under the sun. Now, Judith, I am a plain woman--that
+is to say--not plain, but straightforward--and I like to have
+everything above board. The case stands thus. I, in my capacity as
+guardian to that boy, am resolved to consign him immediately to the
+asylum, and to retain him there as long as my authority lasts, though
+it will cost me a pretty sum. You do not desire that he should go
+there. Well and good. There is but one way, but that is effectual, by
+means of which you can free Jamie from restraint. Let me tell you he
+is now in the hands of Mr. Obadiah, and gagged that he may not rouse
+the neighborhood with his screams." Miss Trevisa fixed her hard eyes
+on Judith. "As soon as you take the responsibility off me, and on to
+yourself, you do with the boy what you like."
+
+"I will relieve you at once."
+
+"You are not in a condition to do so. As soon as I am satisfied that
+your future is secure, that you will have a house to call your own,
+and a certainty of subsistence for you both--then I will lay down my
+charge."
+
+"And you mean----"
+
+"I mean that you must first accept Captain Coppinger, who has been
+good enough to find you not intolerable. He is--in this one
+particular--unreasonable, however, he is what he is, in this matter.
+He makes you the offer, gives you the chance. Take it, and you provide
+Jamie and yourself with a home, he has his freedom, and you can manage
+or mismanage him as you list. Refuse the chance and Jamie is lodged in
+Mr. Scantlebray's establishment within an hour."
+
+"I cannot decide this on the spur of the moment."
+
+"Very well. You can let Jamie go provisionally to the asylum--and stay
+there till you have made up your mind."
+
+"No--no--no--Aunt! Never, never!"
+
+"As you will." Miss Trevisa shrugged her shoulders, and cast a glance
+at her niece like a dagger-stab.
+
+"Auntie--I am but a child."
+
+"That may be. But there are times when even children must decide
+momentous questions. A boy as a child decides on his profession, a
+girl--may be--on her marriage."
+
+"Oh, dear Auntie! Do leave Jamie here for, say a fortnight, and in a
+fortnight from to-day you shall have my answer."
+
+"No," answered Miss Trevisa, "I also must decide as to my future, for
+your decision affects not Jamie only but me also."
+
+Judith had listened in great self-restraint, holding the feather
+before her. She held it between thumb and forefinger of both hands,
+not concerning herself about it, and yet with her eyes watching the
+undulations from the end of the quill to the deep blue eye set in a
+halo of gold at the further end, and the feather undulated with every
+rise and fall of her bosom.
+
+"Surely, Auntie! You cannot wish me to marry Cruel Coppinger?"
+
+"I have no wishes one way or the other. Please yourself."
+
+"But, Auntie----"
+
+"You profess to be ready to do all you can for Jamie and yet hesitate
+about relieving me of an irksome charge, and Jamie of what you
+consider barbarous treatment."
+
+"You cannot be serious--_I_ to marry Captain Cruel!"
+
+"It is a serious offer."
+
+"But papa!--what would he say?"
+
+"I never was in a position to tell his thoughts and guess what his
+words would be."
+
+"But, Auntie--he is such a bad man."
+
+"You know a great deal more about him than I do, of course."
+
+"But--he is a smuggler, I do know that."
+
+"Well--and what of that. There is no crime in that."
+
+"It is not an honest profession. They say, too, that he is a wrecker."
+
+"They say!--who say? What do you know?"
+
+"Nothing, but I am not likely to trust my future to a man of whom such
+tales are told. Auntie! Would you, supposing that you were----"
+
+"I will have none of your suppositions, I never did wear a rush apron,
+nor act as Jack Pudding."
+
+"I cannot--Captain Cruel of all men."
+
+"Is he so hateful to you?"
+
+"Hateful--no; but I cannot like him. He has been kind, but--somehow I
+can't think of him as--as--as a man of our class and thoughts and
+ways, as one worthy of my own, own papa. No--it is impossible, I am
+still a child."
+
+She took the end of the peacock's feather, the splendid eye lustrous
+with metallic beauty, and bowed the plume without breaking it, and,
+unconscious of what she was doing, stroked her lips with it. What a
+fragile fine quill that was on which hung so much beauty? and how
+worthless the feather would be when that quill was broken. And so with
+her--her fine, elastic, strong spirit, that when bowed sprang to its
+uprightness the moment the pressure was withdrawn; that on which all
+her charm, her beauty hung.
+
+"Captain Coppinger has, surely, never asked you to put this
+alternative to me?"
+
+"No--I do it myself. As you are a child, you are unfit to take charge
+of your brother. When you are engaged to be married you are a woman; I
+shift my load on you then."
+
+"And you wish it?"
+
+"I repeat I have no wishes in the matter."
+
+"Give me time to consider."
+
+"No. It must be decided now--that is to say if you do not wish Jamie
+to be taken away. Don't fancy I want to persuade you; but I want to be
+satisfied about my own future. I shall not remain in Pentyre with you.
+As you enter by the front door, I leave by the back."
+
+"Where will you go?"
+
+"That is my affair."
+
+Then in at the door came the two Scantlebrays and Jamie between them,
+gagged and with his hands bound behind his back. He had run out,
+directly his examination was over, and had been secured, almost
+without resistance, so taken by surprise was he, and reduced to a
+condition of helplessness.
+
+Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, with every tinge of color gone
+out of her cheeks. Jamie's frightened eyes met hers, and he made a
+slight struggle to speak, and to escape to her.
+
+"You have a close conveyance ready for your patient?" asked Aunt
+Dionysia of the brothers.
+
+"Oh, yes, a very snug little box on wheels. Scanty and I will sit with
+our young man, to prevent his feeling dull, you know."
+
+"You understand, gentlemen, what I told you, that in the deciding
+whether the boy is to go with you or not, I am not the only one to be
+considered. If I have my will, go he shall, as I am convinced that
+your establishment is the very place for him; but my niece, Miss
+Judith, has at her option the chance of taking the responsibility for
+the boy off my shoulders, and if she chooses to do that, why then, I
+fear she will continue to spoil him, as she has done heretofore."
+
+"It has cost us time and money," said Scantlebray, senior.
+
+"And you shall be paid, whichever way is decided," said Miss Trevisa.
+"Every thing now rests with my niece."
+
+Judith seemed as one petrified. One hand was on her bosom, staying her
+heart, the other held the peacock's feather before her, horizontally.
+Every particle of color had deserted, not her face only, but her hands
+as well. Her eyes were sunless, her lips contracted and livid. She was
+motionless as a parian statue, she hardly seemed to breathe. She
+perfectly understood what her aunt had laid upon her, her bodily
+sensations were dead whilst a conflict of ideas raged in her brain.
+She was the arbiter of Jamie's fate. She did not disguise from herself
+that if consigned to the keeper of the asylum, though only for a week
+or two, he would not leave his charge the same as he entered. And what
+would it avail her or him to postpone the decision a week or a
+fortnight.
+
+The brothers Scantlebray knew nothing of the question agitating her,
+but they saw that the determination at which she was resolving was one
+that cost her all her powers. Mr. Obadiah's heavy mind did not exert
+itself to probe the secret, but the more eager intellect of his elder
+brother was alert, and wondering what might be the matter that so
+affected the girl, and made it so difficult for her to pronounce the
+decision. The hard eyes of Miss Trevisa were fixed on her. Judith's
+answer would decide her future--on it depended Othello Cottage, and an
+annuity of fifty pounds. Jamie looked through a veil of tears at his
+sister, and never for a moment turned them from her, from the moment
+of his entry into the room. Instinctively the boy felt that his
+freedom and happiness depended on her.
+
+One or the other must be sacrificed. That Judith saw Jamie was dull of
+mind, but there were possibilities of development in it. And, even if
+he remained where he was, he was happy, happy and really harmless, if
+a little mischievous; an offer had been made which was likely to lead
+him on into industrious ways, and to teach him application. He loved
+his liberty, loved it as does the gull. In an asylum he would pine,
+his mind become more enfeebled, and he would die. But then--what a
+price must be paid to save him? Oh, if she could have put the question
+to her father. But she had none to appeal to for advice. If she gave
+to Jamie liberty and happiness, it was at the certain sacrifice of her
+own. But there was no evading the decision, one or the other must go.
+
+She stretched forth the peacock's feather, laid the great indigo blue
+eye on the bands that held Jamie, on his gagged lips, and said: "Let
+him go."
+
+"You agree!" exclaimed Miss Trevisa.
+
+Judith doubled the peacock's feather and broke it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+THROUGH THE TAMARISKS.
+
+
+For some time after Judith had given her consent, and had released
+Jamie from the hands of the Scantlebrays, she remained still and
+white. Uncle Zachie missed the music to which he had become used, and
+complained. She then seated herself at the piano, but was distraught,
+played badly, and the old bird-stuffer went away grumbling to his
+shop.
+
+Jamie was happy, delighted not to be afflicted with lessons, and
+forgot past troubles in present pleasures. That the recovery of his
+liberty had been bought at a heavy price, he did not know, and would
+not have appreciated it had he been told the sacrifice Judith had been
+ready to make for his sake.
+
+In the garden behind the cottage was an arbor, composed of half a boat
+set up, that is to say, an old boat sawn in half, and erected so that
+it served as a shelter to a seat, which was fixed into the earth on
+posts. From one side of this boat a trellis had been drawn, and
+covered with eschalonia, and a seat placed here as well, so that in
+this rude arbor it was possible for more than one to find
+accommodation. Here Judith and Jamie often sat; the back of the boat
+was set against the prevailing wind from the sea, and on this coast
+the air is unusually soft at the same time that it is bracing,
+enjoyable wherever a little shelter is provided against its violence.
+For violent it can be, and can buffet severely, yet its blows are
+those of a pillow.
+
+Here Judith was sitting one afternoon, alone, lost in a dream, when
+Uncle Zachie came into the garden with his pipe in his mouth, to
+stretch his legs, after a few minutes' work at stuffing a cormorant.
+
+In her lap lay a stocking Judith was knitting for her brother, but she
+had made few stitches, and yet had been an hour in the summer-house.
+The garden of Mr. Menaida was hedged off from a neighbor's grounds by
+a low wall of stone and clay and sand, in and out of which grew
+roughly strong tamarisks now in their full pale pink blossom. The eyes
+of Judith had been on these tamarisks, waving like plumes in the
+sea-air, when she was startled from her reverie by the voice of Uncle
+Zachie.
+
+"Why, Miss Judith! What is the matter with you? Dull, eh? Ah--wait a
+bit, when Oliver comes home we shall have mirth. He is full of
+merriment. A bright boy and a good son; altogether a fellow to be
+proud of, though I say it. He will return at the fall."
+
+"I am glad to hear it, Mr. Menaida. You have not seen him for many
+years."
+
+"Not for ten."
+
+"It will be a veritable feast to you. Does he remain long in England?"
+
+"I cannot say. If his employers find work for him at home, then at
+home he will tarry, but if they consider themselves best served by him
+at Oporto, then to Portugal must he return."
+
+"Will you honor me by taking a seat near me--under the trellis?" asked
+Judith. "It will indeed be a pleasure to me to have a talk with you;
+and I do need it very sore. My heart is so full that I feel I must
+spill some of it before a friend."
+
+"Then indeed I will hold out both hands to catch the sweetness."
+
+"Nay--it is bitter, not sweet, bitter as gall, and briny as the
+ocean."
+
+"Not possible; a little salt gives savor."
+
+She shook her head, took up the stocking, did a couple of stitches,
+and put it down again. The sea-breeze that tossed the pink bunches of
+tamarisk waved stray tresses of her red-gold hair, but somehow the
+brilliancy, the burnish, seemed gone from it. Her eyes were sunken,
+and there was a greenish tinge about the ivory white surrounding her
+mouth.
+
+"I cannot work, dear Mr. Menaida; I am so sorry that I should have
+played badly that sonata last night. I knew it fretted you, but I
+could not help myself, my mind is so selfishly directed that I cannot
+attend to anything even of Beethoven's in music, nor to
+stocking-knitting even for Jamie."
+
+"And what are the bitter--briny thoughts?"
+
+Judith did not answer at once, she looked down into her lap, and Mr.
+Menaida, whose pipe was choked, went to the tamarisks and plucked a
+little piece, stripped off the flower and proceeded to clear the tube
+with it.
+
+Presently, while Uncle Zachie's eyes were engaged on the pipe, Judith
+looked up, and said hastily, "I am very young, Mr. Menaida."
+
+"A fault in process of rectification every day," said he, blowing
+through the stem of his pipe. "I think it is clear now."
+
+"I mean--young to be married."
+
+"To be married! Zounds!" He turned his eyes on her in surprise,
+holding the tamarisk spill in one hand and the pipe in the other,
+poised in the air.
+
+"You have not understood that I got Jamie off the other day only by
+taking full charge of him upon myself and relieving my aunt."
+
+"But--good gracious, you are not going to marry your brother."
+
+"My aunt would not transfer the guardianship to me unless I were
+qualified to undertake and exercise it properly, according to her
+ideas, and that could be only by my becoming engaged to be married to
+a man of substance."
+
+"Goodness help me! what a startlement! And who is the happy man to be?
+Not Scantlebray, senior, I trust, whose wife is dying."
+
+"No--Captain Coppinger."
+
+"Cruel Coppinger!" Uncle Zachie put down his pipe so suddenly on the
+bench by him that he broke it. "Cruel Coppinger! never!"
+
+She said nothing to this, but rose and walked, with her head down,
+along the bank, and put her hands among the waving pink bunches of
+tamarisk bloom, sweeping the heads with her own delicate hand as she
+passed. Then she came back to the boat arbor and reseated herself.
+
+"Dear me! Bless my heart! I could not have credited it," gasped Mr.
+Menaida, "and I had such different plans in my head--but there, no
+more about them."
+
+"I had to make my election whether to take him and qualify to become
+Jamie's guardian, or refrain, and then he would have been snatched
+away and imprisoned in that odious place again."
+
+"But, my dear Miss Judith--" the old man was so agitated that he did
+not know what he was about; he put the stick of tamarisk into his
+mouth in place of his pipe, and took it out to speak, put down his
+hand, picked up the bowl of his pipe, and tapped the end of the
+tamarisk spill with that; "mercy save me! What a world we do live in.
+And I had been building for you a castle--not in Spain, but in a
+contiguous country--who'd have thought it? And Cruel Coppinger, too!
+Upon my soul I don't want to say I am sorry for it, and I can't find
+in my heart to say I'm glad."
+
+"I do not expect that you will be glad--not if you have any love for
+me."
+
+The old man turned round, his eyes were watering and his face
+twitching.
+
+"I have, Heaven knows! I have--yes--I mean Miss Judith."
+
+"Mr. Menaida," said the girl, "you have been so kind, so considerate,
+that I should like to call you what every one else does--when speaking
+of you to one another--not to your face--Uncle Zachie."
+
+He put out his hand, it was shaking, and caught hers. He put the ends
+of the fingers to his lips; but he kept his face averted, and the
+water that had formed in his eyes ran down his cheeks. He did not
+venture to speak. He had lost command over his voice.
+
+"You see, uncle, I have no one of whom to ask counsel. I have only
+aunt, and she--somehow--I feel that I cannot go to her, and get from
+her the advice best suited to me. Now papa is dead I am entirely
+alone, and I have to decide on matters most affecting my own life, and
+that of Jamie. I do so crave for a friend who could give me an
+opinion--but I have no one, if you refuse."
+
+He pressed her hand.
+
+"Not that now I can go back from my word. I have passed that to Aunt
+Dionysia, and draw back I may not; but somehow, as I sit and think,
+and think, and try to screw myself up to the resolution that must be
+reached of giving up my hand and my whole life into the power of--of
+that man, I cannot attain to it. I feel like one who is condemned to
+cast himself down a precipice and shrinks from it, cannot make up his
+mind to spring, but draws back after every run made to the edge. Tell
+me--uncle--tell me truly, what do you think about Captain Coppinger?
+What do you know about him? Is he a very wicked man?"
+
+"You ask me what I think, and also what I know," said Mr. Menaida,
+releasing her hand. "I know nothing, but I have my thoughts."
+
+"Then tell me what you think."
+
+"As I have said, I know nothing. I do not know whence he comes. Some
+say he is a Dane, some that he is an Irishman. I cannot tell, I know
+nothing, but I think his intonation is Irish, and I have heard that
+there is a family of that name in Ireland. But this is all guesswork.
+One thing I do know, he speaks French like a native. Then, as to his
+character, I believe him to be a man of ungovernable temper, who, when
+his blood is roused will stick at nothing. I think him a man of very
+few scruples. But he has done liberal things--he is open-handed, that
+all say. A hard liver, and with a rough tongue, and yet with some of
+the polish of a gentleman; a man with the passions of a devil, but not
+without in him some sparks of divine light. That is what I think him
+to be. And if you ask me further, whether I think him a man calculated
+to make you happy--I say decidedly that he is not."
+
+Rarely before in his life had Mr. Menaida spoken with such decision.
+
+"He has been kind to me," said Judith. "Very kind."
+
+"Because he is in love with you."
+
+"And gentle--"
+
+"Have you ever done aught to anger him!"
+
+"Yes. I threw him down and broke his arm and collar-bone."
+
+"And won his heart by so doing."
+
+"Uncle Zachie, he is a smuggler."
+
+"Yes--there is no doubt about that."
+
+"Do you suppose if I were to entreat him that he would abandon
+smuggling? I have already had it in my heart to ask him this, but I
+could not bring the request over my lips."
+
+"I have no doubt if you asked him to throw up his smuggling that he
+would promise to do so. Whether he would keep his promise is another
+matter. Many a girl has made her lover swear to give up gambling, and
+on that understanding has married him; but I reckon none have been
+able to keep their husbands to the engagement. Gambling, smuggling,
+and poaching, my dear, are in the blood. A man brings the love of
+adventure, the love of running a risk, into the world with him. If I
+had been made by my wife to swear when I married never to touch a
+musical instrument, I might out of love for her have sworn, but I
+could not have kept my oath. And you--if you vowed to keep your
+fingers from needle and thread, and saw your gown in rags, or your
+husband's linen frayed--would find an irresistible itch in the finger
+ends to mend and hem, and you would do it, in spite of your vows. So
+with a gambler, a poacher, and a smuggler, the instinct, the passion
+is in them and is irresistible. Don't impose any promise on Captain
+Cruel, it will not influence him."
+
+"They tell me he is a wrecker."
+
+"What do you mean by a wrecker! We are all wreckers, after a storm,
+when a merchantman has gone to pieces on the rocks, and the shore is
+strewn with prizes. I have taken what I could, and I see no harm in
+it. When the sea throws treasures here and there, it is a sin not to
+take them up and use them and be thankful."
+
+"I do not mean that. I mean that he has been the means of luring ships
+to their destruction."
+
+"Of that I know nothing. Stories circulate whenever there is a wreck
+not in foul weather or with a wind on shore. But who can say whether
+they be true or false?"
+
+"And about that man, Wyvill. Did he kill him?"
+
+"There also I can say nothing, because I know nothing. All that can be
+said about the matter is that the Preventive man Wyvill was found at
+sea--or washed ashore without his head. A shark may have done it, and
+sharks have been found off our coast. I cannot tell. There is not a
+shadow of evidence that could justify an indictment. All that can be
+stated that makes against Coppinger is that the one is a smuggler, the
+other was a Preventive man, and that the latter was found dead and
+with his head off, an unusual circumstance, but not sufficient to show
+that he had been decapitated by any man, nor that the man who
+decapitated him was Coppinger."
+
+Then Mr. Menaida started up: "And--you sell yourself to this man for
+Jamie?"
+
+"Yes, uncle, to make a man of Jamie."
+
+"On the chance, Judith, on the very doubtful chance of making a man
+of Jamie, you rush on the certainty of making a ruin of yourself. That
+man--that Coppinger to be trusted with you! A fair little vessel,
+richly laden, with silken sail, and cedar sides, comes skimmering over
+the sea, and--Heaven forgive me if I judge wrongly--but I think he is
+a wrecker, enticing, constraining you on to the reefs where you will
+break up, and all your treasures will--not fall to him--but sink; and
+all that will remain of you will be a battered and broken hull, and a
+draggled discolored sail. I cannot--I cannot endure the thought."
+
+"Yet it must be endured, faced and endured by me," said Judith. "You
+are a cruel comforter, Uncle Zachie. I called you to encourage me, and
+you cast me down; to lighten my load, and you heap more on."
+
+"I can do no other," gasped Mr. Menaida. Then he sprang back, with
+open mouth, aghast. He saw Cruel Coppinger on the other side of the
+hedge, he had put his hands to the tamarisk bushes, and thrust them
+apart and was looking through.
+
+"Goldfish!" called Captain Coppinger, "Goldfish, come!"
+
+Judith knew the voice and looked in the direction whence it came, and
+saw the large hands of Coppinger holding back the boughs of tamarisk,
+his dark face in the gap. She rose at once and stepped toward him.
+
+"You are ill," he said, fixing his sombre eyes on her.
+
+"I am not ill in body. I have had much to harass my mind."
+
+"Yes, that Wadebridge business."
+
+"What has sprung out of it?"
+
+"Shall I come to you, or will you to me!--through the tamarisks?"
+
+"As you will, Captain Coppinger."
+
+"Come, then--up on to the hedge and jump--I will catch you in my arms.
+I have held you there ere this."
+
+"Yes, you have taken me up, now must I throw----" She did not finish
+the sentence; she meant, must she voluntarily throw herself into his
+arms?
+
+She caught hold of the bushes and raised herself to the top of the
+hedge.
+
+"By Heaven!" said he. "The tamarisk flowers have more color in them
+than your face."
+
+She stood on the summit of the bank, the tamarisks rising to her
+knees, waving in the wind about her. Must she resign herself to that
+man of whom she knew so little, whom she feared so greatly? There was
+no help for it. She must. He held out his arms. She sprang, and he
+caught her.
+
+"I have you now," he said, with a laugh of triumph. "You have come to
+me, and I will never give you up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS.
+
+
+Coppinger held her in his arms, shook her hair out that it streamed
+over his arm, and looked into her upturned face. "Indeed you are
+light, lighter than when I bore you in my arms before; and you are
+thin and white, and the eyes, how red. You have been crying. What!
+this spirit, strong as a steel spring, so subdued that it gives way to
+weeping!"
+
+Judith's eyes were closed against the strong light from the sky above,
+and against the sight of his face bent over hers, and the fire glint
+of his eyes, dark as a thundercloud and as charged with lightnings.
+And now there was a flashing of fire from them, of love and pride and
+admiration. The strong man trembled beneath his burden in the
+vehemence of his emotion. The boiling and paining of his heart within
+him, as he held the frail child in his arms, and knew she was to be
+his own, his own wholly, in a short space. It was for the moment to
+him as though all earth and sea and heaven were dissolved with
+nebulous chaos, and the only life--the only pulses in the
+universe--were in him and the little creature he held to his breast.
+He looked into her face, down on her as Vesuvius must have looked down
+on lovely, marble, white Pompeii, with its gilded roofs and
+incense-scented temples, and restrained itself, as long as restrain
+its molten heart it could, before it poured forth its fires and
+consumed the pearly city lying in its arms.
+
+He looked at her closed eyelids with the long golden lashes resting on
+the dark sunken dip beneath, at the delicate mouth drawn as with pain,
+at the white temples in which slowly throbbed the blue veins, at the
+profusion of red-gold hair streaming over his arm and almost touching
+the ground.
+
+She knew that his eyes--on fire--were on her, and she dared not meet
+them, for there would be a shrinking--from him, no responsive leap of
+flame from hers.
+
+"Shall I carry you about like this!" he asked. "I could and I would,
+to the world's end, and leap with you thence into the unfathomed
+abyss."
+
+Her head, leaning back on his arm, with the gold rain falling from it,
+exposed her long and delicate throat of exquisite purity of tint and
+beauty of modelling, and as it lay a little tuft of pink tamarisk
+blossom, brushed off in her lap into his arms, and then caught in the
+light edging of her dress, at the neck.
+
+"And you come to me of your own will?" he said.
+
+Then Judith slightly turned her head to avoid his eyes, and said, "I
+have come--it was unavoidable. Let me down, that we may speak
+together."
+
+He obeyed with reluctance. Then, standing before him, she bound up and
+fastened her hair.
+
+"Look!" said he, and threw open his collar. A ribbon was tied about
+his throat. "Do you see this?" He loosed the band and held it to her.
+One delicate line of gold ran along the silk, fastened to it by
+threads at intervals. "Your own hair. The one left with me when you
+first heard me speak of my heart's wish, and you disdained me and went
+your way. You left me that one hair, and that one hair I have kept
+wound round my neck ever since, and it has seemed to me that I might
+still have caught my goldfish, my saucy goldfish that swam away from
+my hook at first."
+
+Judith said calmly; "Let us walk together somewhere--to St. Enodoc, to
+my father's grave, and there, over that sand-heap we will settle what
+must be settled."
+
+"I will go with you where you will. You are my Queen, I your
+subject--it is my place to obey."
+
+"The subject has sometimes risen and destroyed the Queen; it has been
+so in France."
+
+"Yes, when the subject has been too hardly treated, too down-trodden,
+not allowed to look on and adore the Queen."
+
+"And," said Judith further, "let us walk in silence, allow me the
+little space between here and my father's grave to collect my
+thoughts, bear with me for that short distance."
+
+"As you will. I am your slave, as I have told you, and you my mistress
+have but to command."
+
+"Yes, but the slave sometimes becomes the master, and then is all the
+more tyrannous because of his former servitude."
+
+So they walked together, yet apart, from Polzeath to St. Enodoc,
+neither speaking, and it might have been a mourner's walk at a
+funeral. She held her head down, and did not raise her eyes from the
+ground, but he continued to gaze on her with a glow of triumph and
+exultation in his face.
+
+They reached at length the deserted church, sunken in the sands; it
+had a hole broken in the wall under the eaves in the south, rudely
+barricaded, through which the sacred building might be entered for
+such functions as a marriage, or the first part of the funeral office
+that must be performed in a church.
+
+The roof was of pale gray slate, much broken, folding over the rafters
+like the skins on the ribs of an old horse past work. The church-yard
+was covered with plain sand. Gravestones were in process of being
+buried like those whom they commemorated. Some peeped above the sand,
+with a fat cherub's head peering above the surface. Others stood high
+on the land side, but were banked up by sand toward the sea. Here the
+church-yard surface was smooth, there it was tossed with undulations,
+according as the sand had been swept over portions tenanted by the
+poor who were uncommemorated with head-stones, or over those where the
+well-to-do lay with their titles and virtues registered above them.
+
+There was as yet no monument erected over the grave of the Reverend
+Peter Trevisa, sometime rector of St. Enodoc. The mound had been
+turfed over and bound down with withes. The loving hands of his
+daughter had planted some of the old favorite flowers from the long
+walk at the rectory above where he lay, but they had not as yet taken
+to the soil, the sand ill agreed with them, and the season of the year
+when their translation had taken place dissatisfied them, and they
+looked forlorn, drooping, and doubted whether they would make the
+struggle to live.
+
+Below the church lay the mouths of the Camel, blue between sand-hills,
+with the Doom Bar, a long and treacherous band of shifting sands in
+the midst.
+
+On reaching the graveyard Judith signed to Captain Coppinger to seat
+himself on a flat tombstone on the south side of her father's grave,
+and she herself leaned against the headstone that marked her mother's
+tomb.
+
+"I think we should come to a thorough understanding," she said, with
+composure, "that you may not expect of me what I cannot give, and know
+the reason why I give you anything. You call me Goldfish. Why?"
+
+"Because of your golden hair."
+
+"No--that was not what sprung the idea in your brain, it was something
+I said to you, that you and I stood to each other in the relation of
+bird of prey to fish, belonging to distinct modes of life and manner
+of thinking, and that we could never be to one another in any other
+relation than that, the falcon and his prey, the flame and its fuel,
+the wreckers and the wrecked."
+
+Coppinger started up and became red as blood.
+
+"These are strange words," he said.
+
+"It is the same that I said before."
+
+"Then why have you given yourself to me?"
+
+"I have resigned myself to you, as I cannot help myself any more than
+the fish can that is pounced on by the sea-bird, or the fuel that is
+enveloped by the flame, or the ship that is boarded by the wrecker."
+
+She looked at him steadily; he was quivering with excitement, anger,
+and disappointment.
+
+"It is quite right that you should know what to expect, and make no
+more demands on me that I am capable of answering. You cannot ask of
+me that I should become like you, and I do not entertain the foolish
+thought that you could be brought to be like me--to see through my
+eyes, feel with my heart. My dead father lies between us now, and he
+will ever be between us--he a man of pure life, noble aspirations, a
+man of books, of high principle, fearing God and loving men. What he
+was he tried to make me. Imperfectly, faultily, I follow him, but
+though unable to be like him, I strive after what he showed me should
+be my ideal."
+
+"You are a child. You will be a woman, and new thoughts will come to
+you."
+
+"Will they be good and honorable and contented thoughts? Shall I find
+those in your house?"
+
+Coppinger did not reply, his brows were drawn together and his face
+became dark.
+
+"Why, then, have you promised to come to me?"
+
+"Because of Jamie."
+
+He uttered an oath, and with his hands clenched the upper stone of
+the tomb.
+
+"I have promised my aunt that I will accept you, if you will suffer my
+poor brother to live where I live, and suffer me to be his protector.
+He is helpless and must have someone to think and watch for him. My
+aunt would have sent him to Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray's asylum, and that
+would have been fatal to him. To save him from that I said that I
+would be yours, on the condition that my home should be his home. I
+have passed my word to my aunt, and I will not go from it, but that
+does not mean that I have changed my belief that we are unfitted for
+each other, because we belong to different orders of being."
+
+"This is cold comfort."
+
+"It is cold as ice, but it is all that I have to give to you. I wish
+to put everything plainly before you now, that there may be no
+misapprehension later, and you may be asking of me what I cannot give,
+and be angry at not receiving what I never promised to surrender."
+
+"So! I am only accepted for the sake of that boy, Jamie."
+
+"It is painful for me to say what I do--as painful as it must be for
+you to hear it, but I cannot help myself. I wish to put all boldly and
+hardly before you before an irrevocable step is taken such as might
+make us both wretched. I take you for Jamie's sake. Were his
+happiness, his well-being not in the scale, I would not take you. I
+would remain free."
+
+"That is plain enough," exclaimed Coppinger, setting his teeth, and he
+broke off a piece of the tombstone on which he was half sitting.
+
+"You will ask of me love, honor, and obedience. I will do my best to
+love you--like you I do now, for you have been kind and good to me,
+and I can never forget what you have done for me. But it is a long
+leap from liking to loving, still I will try my best, and if I fail it
+will not be for lack of effort. Honor is another matter. That lies in
+your own power to give. If you behave as a good and worthy man to your
+fellows, and justly toward me, of course I shall honor you. I must
+honor what is deserving of honor, and where I honor there I may come
+to love. I cannot love where I do not honor, so perhaps I may say that
+my heart is in your hands, and that if those hands are clean and
+righteous in their dealings it may become yours some time. As to
+obedience--that you shall command. That I will render to you frankly
+and fully in all things lawful."
+
+"You offer me an orange from which all the juice has been squeezed, a
+nut without a kernel."
+
+"I offer you all I have to offer. Is it worth your while having this?"
+
+"Yes!" said he angrily, starting up, "I will have what I can and wring
+the rest out of you, when once you are mine."
+
+"You never will wring anything out of me. I give what I may, but
+nothing will I yield to force."
+
+He looked at her sullenly and said, "A child in years with an old head
+and a stony heart."
+
+"I have always lived with my father, and so have come to think like
+one that is old," said Judith, "and now, alone in the world, I must
+think with ripened wits."
+
+"I do not want that precocious, wise soul, if that be the kernel. I
+will have the shell--the glorious shell. Keep your wisdom and
+righteousness and piety for yourself. I do not value them a rush. But
+your love I will have."
+
+"I have told you there is but one way by which that may be won. But
+indeed, Captain Coppinger, you have made a great mistake in thinking
+of me. I am not suited to you to make you happy and content; any more
+than you are suited to me. Look out for some girl more fit to be your
+mate."
+
+"Of what sort? Come, tell me!" said Coppinger scornfully.
+
+"A fine, well-built girl, dark-haired, dark-eyed, with cheeks like
+apricots, lively in mood, with nimble tongue, good-natured, not
+bookish, not caring for brush or piano, but who can take a rough word
+and return it; who will not wince at an oath, and shrink away at
+coarse words flung about where she is. All these things you know very
+well must be encountered by your wife, in your house. Did you ever
+read 'Hamlet,' Captain Coppinger?"
+
+He made no answer, he was plucking at the slab-cover of the tomb and
+grinding his heels into the sand.
+
+"In 'Hamlet,' we read of a king poisoned by his queen, who dipped the
+juice of cursed hebenon into his ears, and it curdled all his blood.
+It is the same with the sort of language that is found in your house
+when your seamen are there. I cannot endure it, it curdles my
+heart--choose a girl who is indifferent."
+
+"You shall not be subjected to it," said Coppinger, "and as to the
+girl you have sketched--I care not for her--such as you describe are
+to be found thick as whortle-berries on a moor. Do you not know that
+man seeks in marriage not his counterpart but his contrast? It is
+because you are in all things different from me that I love you."
+
+"Then will naught that I have said make you desist?"
+
+"Naught."
+
+"I have told you that I take you only so as to be able to make a home
+for Jamie."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And that I do not love you and hardly think I can ever."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And still you will have me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And that by taking me you wreck my life--spoil my happiness."
+
+He raised his head, then dropped it again and said, "Yes."
+
+She remained silent, also looking on the ground. Presently she raised
+her head and said: "I gave you a chance, and you have cast it from
+you. I am sorry."
+
+"A chance? What chance?"
+
+"The chance of taking a first step up the ladder in my esteem."
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"Therefore I am sorry."
+
+"What is your meaning?"
+
+"Captain Coppinger," said Judith, firmly, looking straight into his
+dark face and flickering eyes, "I am very, very sorry. When I told you
+that I accepted your offer only because I could not help myself,
+because I was a poor, feeble orphan, with a great responsibility laid
+on me, the charge of my unfortunate brother; that I only accepted you
+for his sake when I told you that I did not love you, that our
+characters, our feelings were so different that it would be misery to
+me to become your wife--that it would be the ruin of my life,
+then--had you been a man of generous soul, you would have said--I will
+not force myself upon you, but I will do one thing for you, assist you
+in protecting Jamie from the evil that menaces him. Had you said that
+I would have honored you, and as I said just now, where I honor, there
+I may love. But you could not think such a thought, no such generous
+feeling stirred you. You held me to my bond."
+
+"I hold you to your bond," exclaimed Coppinger, in loud rage. "I hold
+you, indeed. Even though you can neither love nor honor me, you shall
+be mine. You likened me to a bird of prey that must have its prey or
+die, to a fire--and that must have its fuel--to a wrecker, and he must
+have his wreck, I care not. I will have you as mine, whether you love
+me or not."
+
+"So be it, then," said Judith, sadly. "You had your opportunity and
+have put it from you. We understand each other. The slave is
+master--and a tyrant."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+A DANGEROUS GIFT.
+
+
+"I do love a proper muddle, cruel bad, I do," said Jump, and had what
+she loved, for the preparations for Judith's marriage threw Mr.
+Menaida's trim cottage into a "proper muddle." There were the cakes to
+be baked, and for a while the interior of the house was pervaded by
+that most delicious aroma of baking bread superior to frangipani,
+jockey club, and wood violet. Then came the dusting, and after that
+the shaking and beating of the rugs and sofa and chairs. Then it was
+discovered that the ceilings and walls would be the better for white
+and color-wash. This entailed the turning out of every thing
+previously dusted and tidied and arranged. Neither Mr. Menaida nor
+Jump had any other idea of getting things into order than throwing all
+into a muddle in the hopes that out of chaos, exactness and order
+might spring.
+
+A dressmaker had been engaged and material purchased, for the
+fabrication of a trousseau. This naturally interested Jamie vastly,
+and Jump paid repeated visits to the dressmaker, whilst engaged on her
+work. On one such occasion she neglected the kitchen and allowed some
+jam to become burnt. On another she so interested the needlewoman and
+diverted her attention from her work, whilst cutting out that the
+latter cut out two right arms to the wedding gown. This involved a
+difficulty, as it was not practicable either to turn the one sleeve,
+and convert it into a left arm, nor to remove Judith's left arm and
+attach it to the right side of her body, and so accommodate her to the
+gown. The mercer at Camelford was communicated with, from whom the
+material had been procured, but he was out of it, he however was in
+daily expectation of a consignment of more of the same stuff. A
+fortnight later he was able to supply the material, sufficient for a
+left sleeve, but unfortunately of a different color. The gown had to
+be laid aside till some one could be found of Judith's size and
+figure with two right arms, and also who wanted a wedding dress, and
+also would be disposed to take this particular one at half the cost of
+the material, or else to let the gown stand over till after the lapse
+of a century or thereabouts, when the fashion would prevail for ladies
+to wear sleeves of a different substance and color from their bodies
+and skirts.
+
+"'Taint a sort o' a courtin' as I'd give a thankee for," said Jump.
+"There was Camelford goose fair, and whether he axed her to go wi' him
+and pick a goose I can't tell, but I know her never went. Then o'
+Sundays they don't walk one another out. And he doesn't come arter her
+to the back garden, and she go to him, and no whisperings and
+kissings. I've listened a score o' times a hoping and a wishing to see
+and hear the likes, and never once as I'm a Christian and a female.
+There were my sister Jane, when she was going to be married, her got
+that hot and blazin' red that I thought it were scarletine, but it was
+naught but excitement. But the young mistress, bless 'ee, her gets
+whiter and colder every day, and I'd say, if such a thing were
+possible, that her'd rather her never was a going to be married. But
+you see that ain't in natur', leastways wi' us females. I tell 'ee I
+never seed him once put his arm round her waist. If this be courtin'
+among gentlefolks, all I say is preserve and deliver me from being a
+lady."
+
+It was as Jump, in her vulgar way, put it. Judith alone in the house
+appeared to take no interest in the preparations. It was only after a
+struggle with her aunt that she had yielded to have the wedding in
+November. She had wished it postponed till the spring, but Cruel
+Coppinger and Aunt Dionysia were each for their several ends desirous
+to have it in the late autumn. Coppinger had the impatience of a
+lover; and Miss Trevisa the desire to be free from a menial position
+and lodged in her new house before winter set in. She had amused
+herself over Othello Cottage ever since Judith had yielded her
+consent, and her niece saw little of her accordingly.
+
+It suited Coppinger's interest to have a tenant for the solitary
+cottage, and that a tenant who would excite no suspicions, as the
+house was employed as a store for various run goods, and it was
+understood between him and Miss Trevisa, that he was still to employ
+the garret for the purposes that suited him.
+
+Had Othello Cottage remained long unoccupied, it was almost certain to
+attract the attention of the Preventive men, awake their suspicions,
+and be subjected to a visit. Its position was convenient, it was on
+the cliff of that cove where was the cave in which the smugglers'
+boats were concealed.
+
+Coppinger visited Polzeath and saw Judith whenever he came to Mr.
+Menaida's house, but his wooing met with no response. She endured his
+attentions, shrinking from the slightest approach to familiarity, and
+though studiously courteous was never affectionate. It would take a
+heavy charge of self-conceit to have made the Captain blind to the
+fact that she did not love him, that in truth she viewed her
+approaching marriage with repugnance. Coppinger was a proud, but not a
+conceited man, and her coldness and aversion aroused his anger, for it
+galled his pride. Had he been a man of noble impulse, he would have
+released her, as she had already told him, but he was too selfish, too
+bent on carrying out his own will to think of abandoning his suit.
+
+Her lack of reciprocation did not abate his passion, it aggravated it.
+It enlisted his self-esteem in the cause, and he would not give her
+up, because he had set his mind upon obtaining her, and to confess his
+defeat would have been a humiliation insufferable to his haughty
+spirit. But it was not merely that he would not, it was also that he
+could not. Coppinger was a man who had, all his life long, done what
+he willed, till his will had become in him the mainspring of his
+existence, and drove him to execute his purposes in disregard of
+reason, safety, justice, and opposition. He would eat out his own
+furious heart in impotent rage, if his will were encountered by
+impossibility of execution. And he was of a sanguine temperament.
+Hitherto every opposition had been overthrown before him, therefore he
+could not conceive that the heart of a young girl, a mere child, could
+stand out against him permanently. For a while it might resist, but
+ultimately it must yield, and then the surrender would be absolute,
+unconditional.
+
+Every time he came to see her, he came with hopes, almost with
+confidence, that the icy barrier would dissolve, but when in her
+presence the chill from it struck him, numbed his heart, silenced his
+tongue, deadened his thoughts. Yet no sooner was he gone from the
+house, than his pulses leaped, his brain whirled, and he was consumed
+with mortified pride and disappointed love. He could not be rough,
+passionate or imperious with her. A something he could not understand,
+certainly not define, streamed from her that kept him at a distance
+and quelled his insolence. It was to him at moments as if he hated
+her; but this hate was but the splutter of frustrated love. He
+recalled the words she had spoken to him, and the terms she had
+employed in speaking of the relation in which they stood to each
+other, the only relations to her conceivable in which they could stand
+to each other, and each such word was a spark of fire, a drop of
+flaming phosphorus on his heart, torturing it with pain, and
+unquenchable. A word once spoken can never be recalled, and these
+words had been thrown red hot at him, had sunk in and continued to
+consume where they had fallen. He was but a rapacious bird and she the
+prey, he the fire and she the fuel, he the wrecker and she the wreck.
+There could be no reciprocity between them, the bird in the talons of
+the hawk, rent by his beak could do no other than shiver and shriek
+and struggle to be free. The fuel could but expect to be consumed to
+ashes in the flames; and the wrecked must submit to the wrecker. He
+brooded over these similes, he chafed under the conviction that there
+was truth in them, he fought against the idea that a return of his
+love was impossible--and then his passion raged and roared up in a
+fury that was no other than hatred of the woman who could not be his
+in heart. Then, in another moment, he cooled down, and trusted that
+what he dreaded would not be. He saw before him the child, white as a
+lily, with hair as the anthers of the lily--so small, so fragile, so
+weak; and he laughed to think that one such, with no experience of
+life, one who had never tasted love, could prove insensible to his
+devouring passion. The white asbestos in the flame glows, and never
+loses its delicacy and its whiteness.
+
+And Judith was, as Jump observed, becoming paler and more silent as
+her marriage drew on. The repugnance with which she had viewed it
+instead of abating intensified with every day. She woke in the night
+with a start of horror, and a cold sweat poured from her. She clasped
+her hands over her eyes and buried her face in her pillow and
+trembled, so that the bed rattled. She lost all appetite. Her throat
+was contracted when she touched food. She found it impossible to turn
+her mind to the preparations that were being made for her wedding, she
+suffered her aunt to order for her what she liked, she was indifferent
+when told of the blunder made by the dressmaker in her wedding-gown.
+She could not speak at meals. When Mr. Menaida began to talk, she
+seemed to listen, but her mind was elsewhere. She resumed lessons with
+Jamie, but was too abstracted to be able to teach effectually. A
+restlessness took hold of her and impelled her to be out of doors and
+alone. Any society was painful to her, she could endure only to be
+alone; and when alone, she did nothing save pluck at her dress, or rub
+her fingers one over the other--the tricks and convulsive movements of
+one on the point of death.
+
+But she did not yield to her aversion without an effort to accustom
+herself to the inevitable. She rehearsed to herself the good traits
+she had observed in Coppinger, his kindness, his forbearance toward
+herself, she took cognizance of his efforts to win her regard, to
+afford her pleasure, his avoidance of everything that he thought might
+displease her. And when she knew he was coming to visit her, she
+strove with herself; and formed the resolution to break down the
+coldness, and to show him some of that semblance of affection which he
+might justly expect. But it was in vain. No sooner did she hear his
+step, or the first words he uttered, no sooner did she see him, than
+she turned to stone, and the power to even feign an affection she did
+not possess left her. And when Coppinger had departed, there was
+stamped red hot on her brain the conviction that she could not
+possibly endure life with him.
+
+She prayed long and often, sometimes by her father's grave, always in
+bed when lying wakeful, tossing from side to side in anguish of mind;
+often, very often when on the cliffs looking out to sea, to the dark,
+leaden, sullen sea, that had lost all the laughter and color of
+summer. But prayer afforded her no consolation. The thought of
+marriage to such a man, whom she could not respect, whose whole nature
+was inferior to her own, was a thought of horror. She could have
+nerved herself to death by the most excruciating of torments, but for
+this, not all the grace of heaven could fortify her.
+
+To be his mate, to be capable of loving him, she must descend to his
+level, and that she neither could nor would do. His prey, his fuel,
+his wreck--that she must become, but she could be nothing
+else--nothing else. As the day of her marriage approached her nervous
+trepidation became so acute that she could hardly endure the least
+noise. A strange footfall startled her and threw her into a paroxysm
+of trembling. The sudden opening of a door made her heart stand still.
+
+When her father had died, poignant though her sorrow had been, she had
+enjoyed the full powers of her mind. She had thought about the
+necessary preparations for the funeral, she had given orders to the
+servants, she had talked over the dear father to Jamie, she had wept
+his loss till her eyes were red. Not so now; she could not turn her
+thoughts from the all-absorbing terror; she could not endure an
+allusion to it from anyone, least of all to speak of it to her
+brother, and the power to weep was taken from her. Her eyes were dry;
+they burnt, but were unfilled by tears.
+
+When her father was dead she could look forward, think of him in
+paradise, and hope to rejoin him after having trustily executed the
+charge imposed on her by him. But now she could not look ahead. A
+shadow of horror lay before her, an impenetrable curtain. Her father
+was covering his face, was sunk in grief in his celestial abode; he
+could not help her. She could not go to him with the same open brow
+and childish smile as before. She must creep to his feet, and lay her
+head there, sullied by association with one against whom he had warned
+her, one whom he had regarded as the man that had marred his sacred
+utility, one who stood far below the stage of virtue and culture that
+belonged to his family and on which he had firmly planted his child.
+What was in her heart Judith could pour out before none; certainly not
+before Aunt Dionysia, devoid of a particle of sympathy with her niece.
+Nor could she speak her trouble to Uncle Zachie, a man void of
+resources, kind, able for a minute or two to sympathize, but never to
+go deeply into any trouble and understand more of a wound than the
+fester on the surface. Besides, of what avail to communicate the
+anguish of her heart to anyone, when nothing could be done to alter
+the circumstances. She could not now draw back. Indeed it never
+occurred to her to be possible to go back from her undertaking. To
+save Jamie from an idiot asylum she had passed her word to give her
+hand at the altar to Cruel Coppinger, and her word was sacred. Aunt
+Dionysia trusted her word. Coppinger held to it, knowing that she gave
+it on compulsion and reluctantly, yet he showed his perfect confidence
+in its security.
+
+"My dear Judith," said Mr. Menaida, "I am so sorry about losing you,
+and what is more, losing Jamie, for I know very well that when he is
+at the Glaze he will find plenty to amuse him without coming to see
+me, or anyhow, coming to work with me."
+
+"I hope not, dear uncle."
+
+"Yes, I lose a promising pupil." Then turning to the boy, he said:
+"Jamie, I hope you will not give up stuffing birds, or, if you have
+not the patience to do that, that you will secure the skins and
+prepare them for me."
+
+"Yes, I will," said Jamie.
+
+"Yes, yes, my dear boy," said Menaida, "but don't you fancy I am going
+to trust you with arsenic for preparing the skins. I shall give that
+to your sister and she will keep the supply, eh, will you not,
+Judith?"
+
+"Yes. I will take charge of it."
+
+"And let him have it as needed; never more than is needed."
+
+"Why not?" asked Jamie.
+
+"Because it is a dangerous thing to have lying about." Menaida ran
+into the workshop, and came back with a small tin box of the poison.
+"Look here! here is a little bone spoon. Don't get the powder over
+your fingers. Why, a spoonful would make a man very ill, and two would
+kill him. So, Judith, I trust this to you. When Jamie has a skin to
+prepare he will go to you, and you will let him have only so much as
+he requires."
+
+"Yes, uncle."
+
+She took the little tin of arsenic and put it in her workbox, under
+the tray that contained reels and needles.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+HALF A MARRIAGE.
+
+
+One request Judith had made, relative to her marriage, and one only,
+after she had given way about the time when it was to take place, and
+this request concerned the place. She desired to be married, not in
+the parish church of S. Minver, but in that of S. Enodoc, in the yard
+of which lay her father and mother, and in which her father had
+occasionally ministered.
+
+It was true that no great display could be made in a building
+half-filled with sand, but neither Judith nor Coppinger, nor Aunt
+Dionysia desired display, and Jump, the sole person who wished that
+the wedding should be in full gala, was not consulted in the matter.
+
+November scowled over sea and land, perverting the former into lead
+and blighting the latter to a dingy brown.
+
+The wedding-day was sad. Mist enveloped the coast, wreathed the
+cliffs, drifted like smoke over the glebe, and lay upon the ocean,
+dense and motionless, like a mass of cotton-wool. Not a smile of sun,
+not a glimmer of sky, not a trace of outline in the haze overhead. The
+air was full of minute particles of moisture flying aimlessly, lost to
+all sense of gravity, in every direction. The mist had a fringe but no
+seams, and looked as if it were as unrendable as felt. It trailed over
+the soil, here lifting a ragged flock or tag of fog a few feet above
+the earth, there dropping it again and smearing water over all it
+touched. Vapor condensed on every twig and leaf, but only leisurely,
+and slowly dripped from the ends of thorns and leaves; but the weight
+of the water on some of the frosted and sickly foliage brought the
+leaves down with it. Every stone in every wall was lined with trickles
+of water like snail crawls. The vapor penetrated within doors, and
+made all articles damp, of whatever sort they were. Fires were
+reluctant to kindle, chimneys smoked. The grates and irons broke out
+into eruptions of rust, mildew appeared on walls, leaks in roofs. The
+slate floors became dark and moist. Forks and spoons adhered to the
+hands of those who touched them, and on the keys of Mr. Menaida's
+piano drops formed.
+
+What smoke did escape from a chimney trailed down the roof. Decomposed
+leaves exhaled the scent of decay. From every stack-yard came a musty
+odor of wet straw and hay. Stable yards emitted their most fetid
+exudations that oozed through the gates and stained the roads. The
+cabbages in the kail-yards touched by frost announced that they were
+in decomposition, and the turnips that they were in rampant
+degeneration and rottenness. The very seaweed washed ashore
+impregnated the mist with a flavor of degeneration.
+
+The new rector, the Reverend Desiderius Mules had been in residence at
+St. Enodoc for three months. He had received but a hundred and
+twenty-seven pounds four and ninepence farthing for dilapidations, and
+was angry, declared himself cheated, and vowed he would never employ
+the agent Cargreen any more. And a hundred and twenty-seven pounds
+four and ninepence farthing went a very little way in repairing and
+altering the rectory to make it habitable to the liking of the
+Reverend Desiderius. The Reverend Peter Trevisa and his predecessors
+had been West Country men, and as such loved the sun, and chose to
+have the best rooms of the house with a southern aspect. But the
+Reverend Desiderius Mules had been reared in Barbadoes, and hated the
+sun, and elected to have the best rooms of the house to look north.
+This entailed great alterations. The kitchen had to be converted into
+parlor, and the parlor into kitchen, the dining-room into scullery,
+and the scullery into study, and the library enlarged to serve as
+dining-room. All the down-stairs windows had to be altered. Mr.
+Desiderius Mules liked to have French windows opening to the ground.
+
+In the same manner great transformations were made in the garden.
+Where Mr. Peter Trevisa had built up and planted a hedge there Mr.
+Desiderius Mules opened a gate, and where the late rector had laid
+down a drive there the new rector made garden beds. In the same manner
+shrubberies were converted into lawns, and lawns into shrubberies.
+The pump was now of no service outside the drawing-room window; it had
+to be removed to the other side of the house, and to serve the pump
+with water a new well had to be dug, and the old well that had
+furnished limpid and wholesome water was filled up. The site of the
+conservatory was considered the proper one for the well, and this
+entailed the destruction of the conservatory. Removal was intended,
+with a new aspect to the north, as a frigidarium, but when touched it
+fell to pieces, and in so doing furnished Mr. Desiderius Mules with
+much comment on the imposition to which he had been subjected, for he
+had taken this conservatory at a valuation, and that valuation had
+been for three pounds seven and fourpence ha'penny, whereas its real
+value was, so he declared, three pounds seven and fourpence without
+the ha'penny at the end or the three pounds before.
+
+When the Reverend Desiderius Mules heard that Captain Coppinger and
+Judith Trevisa were to be married in his church, "By Jove," said he,
+"they shall pay me double fees as extra parochial. I shall get that
+out of them at all events. I have been choused sufficiently."
+
+A post-chaise from Wadebridge conveyed Judith, Miss Trevisa, Uncle
+Zachie, and Jamie from Polzeath.
+
+The bride was restless. At one moment she leaned back, then forward;
+her eyes turned resolutely through the window at the fog. Her hands
+plucked at her veil or at her gloves; she spoke not a word throughout
+the drive. Aunt Dionysia was also silent. Opposite her sat Mr. Menaida
+in blue coat with brass buttons, white waistcoat outside a colored
+one, and white trousers tightly strapped. Though inclined to talk, he
+was unable to resist the depressing influence of his vis-a-vis, Miss
+Trevisa, who sat scowling at him with her thin lips closed. Jamie was
+excited, but as no one answered him when he spoke he also lapsed into
+silence.
+
+When the church-yard gate of St. Enodoc was reached, Mr. Menaida
+jumped out of the chaise with a sigh of relief, and muttered to
+himself that, had he known what to expect, he would have brought his
+pocket-flask with him, and have had a nip of cognac on the way.
+
+A good number of sight-seers had assembled from Polzeath and St.
+Enodoc, and stood in the church-yard, magnified by the mist to
+gigantic size. Over the graves of drowned sailors were planted the
+figure-heads of wrecked vessels, and these in the mist might have been
+taken as the dead risen and mingling with the living to view this
+dreary marriage.
+
+The bride herself looked ghostlike, or as a waft of the fog, but
+little condensed, blown through the graveyard toward the gap in the
+church wall, and blown through that also within.
+
+That gap was usually blocked with planks from a wreck, supported by
+beams; when the church was to be put in requisition, then the beams
+were knocked away, whereupon down clattered the boards and they were
+tossed aside. It had been so done on this occasion, and the fragments
+were heaped untidily among the graves under the church wall. The
+clerk-sexton had, indeed, considered that morning, with his hands in
+his pockets, whether it would be worth his while, assisted by the five
+bell-ringers, to take this accumulation of wreckage and pile it
+together out of sight, but he had thought that, owing to the fog, a
+veil would be drawn over the disorder, and he might be saved this
+extra trouble.
+
+Within the sacred building, over his boots in sand, stamped, and
+frowned, and paced, and growled the Reverend Desiderius Mules, in
+surplice, hood, and stole, very ill at ease and out of humor because
+the wedding-party arrived unpunctually, and he feared he might catch
+cold from the wind and fog that drifted in through the hole in the
+wall serving as door.
+
+The sand within was level with the sills of the windows; it cut the
+tables of commandments in half; had blotted away the majority of
+inhibitions against marriage within blood relationship and marriage
+kinship. The altar-rails were below the surface. The altar-table had
+been fished up and set against the east wall, not on this day for the
+marriage, but at some previous occasion. Then the sexton had placed
+two pieces of slate under the feet on one side, and not having found
+handy any other pieces, had thought that perhaps it did not matter.
+Consequently the two legs one side had sunk in the sand, and the
+altar-table formed an incline.
+
+A vast number of bats occupied the church, and by day hung like little
+moleskin purses from the roof. Complaints had been made of the
+disagreeableness of having these creatures suspended immediately over
+the head of the officiant, accordingly the sexton had knocked away
+such as were suspended immediately above the altar and step--a place
+where the step was, beneath the sand; but he did not think it
+necessary to disturb those in other parts of the church. If they
+inconvenienced others, it was the penalty of curiosity, coming to see
+a wedding there. Toward the west end of the church some wooden
+pew-tops stood above the sand, and stuck into a gimlet-hole in the top
+rail of one was a piece of holly, dry and brown as a chip. It had been
+put there as a Christmas decoration the last year that the church was
+used for divine worship, at the feast of Noel; _when_ that was, only
+the oldest men could remember. The sexton had looked at it several
+times with his hands in his pockets and considered whether it were
+worth while pulling his hands out and removing the withered fragment,
+and carrying it outside the church, but had arrived at the conclusion
+that it injured no one, and might therefore just as well remain.
+
+There were fragments of stained glass in the windows, in the upper
+light of the perpendicular windows saints and angels in white and gold
+on ruby and blue grounds. In one window a fragment of a Christ on the
+cross. But all were much obscured by cobwebs. The cobwebs, after
+having entangled many flies, caught and retained many particles of
+sand, became impervious to light and obscured the figures in the
+painted glass. The sexton had looked at these cobwebs occasionally and
+mused whether it would be worth his while to sweep them down, but as
+he knew that the church was rarely used for divine offices, and never
+for regular divine worship, he deemed that there was no crying
+necessity for their destruction. Life was short, and time might be
+better employed--to whit in talking to a neighbor, in smoking a pipe,
+in drinking a pint of ale, in larruping his wife, in reading the
+paper. Consequently the cobwebs remained.
+
+Had Mr. Desiderius Mules been possessed of antiquarian tastes, he
+might have occupied the time he was kept waiting in studying the
+bosses of carved oak that adorned the wagon-roof of the church, which
+were in some cases quaint, in the majority beautiful, and no two the
+same. And he might have puzzled out the meaning of three rabbits with
+only three ears between them forming a triangle, or three heads united
+in one neck, a king, a queen, a bishop and a monk, or of a sow
+suckling a dozen little pigs.
+
+But Mr. Desiderius Mules had no artistic or archaeological faculty
+developed in him. His one object on the present occasion was to keep
+draught and damp from the crown of his head, where the hair was so
+scanty as hardly to exist at all. He did not like to assume his hat in
+the consecrated building, so he stamped about in the sand holding a
+red bandanna handkerchief on the top of his head, and grumbling at the
+time he was kept waiting, at the Cornish climate, at the way in which
+he had been "choused" in the matter of dilapidations for the chancel
+of the church, at the unintelligible dialect of the people, and at a
+good many other causes of irritation, notably at a bat which had not
+reverenced his bald pate, when he ventured beyond the range of the
+sexton's sweeping.
+
+Presently the clerk, who was outside, thrust in his head through the
+gap in the wall, and in a stage whisper announced, "They's a-coming."
+
+The Reverend Mules growled, "There ought to be a right to charge extra
+when the parson is kept waiting--sixpence a minute, not a penny less.
+But we are choused in this confounded corner of the world in every
+way. Ha! there is a mildew-spot on my stole--all come of this
+villainous damp."
+
+In the tower stood five men, ready to pull the ropes and sound a merry
+peal when the service was over, and earn a guinea. They had a firkin
+of ale in a corner, with which to moisten their inner clay between
+each round. Now that they heard that the wedding party had arrived
+they spat on their hands and heaved their legs out of the sand.
+
+Through the aperture in the wall entered the bridal party, a cloud of
+fog blowing in with them and enveloping them. They stepped laboriously
+through the fine sand, at this place less firm than elsewhere, having
+been dug into daily by the late rector in his futile efforts to clear
+the church.
+
+Mr. Mules cast a suspicious look into the rafters above him to see
+that no profane bat was there, and opened his book.
+
+Mr. Menaida was to act as father to the bride, and there was no other
+bride's-maid than Miss Trevisa. As they waded toward the alter,
+Judith's strength failed, and she stood still. Then Uncle Zachie put
+his arm round her and half carried her over the sand toward the place
+where she must stand to give herself away. She turned her head and
+thanked him with her eyes, she could not speak. So deathly was her
+whiteness, so deficient in life did she seem, that Miss Trevisa looked
+at her with some anxiety, and a little doubt whether she would be able
+to go through the service.
+
+When Judith reached her place, her eyes rested on the sand. She did
+not look to her left side, she could hear no steps, for the sand
+muffled all sound of feet, but she knew by the cold shudder that
+thrilled through her, that Captain Coppinger was at her side.
+
+"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here--now then order, if you
+please, and quiet, we are twenty-five minutes after time," said Mr.
+Desiderius Mules.
+
+The first few words, seven in all were addressed to the wedding party,
+the rest to a number of men and women and children who were stumbling
+and plunging into the church through the improvised door, thrusting
+each other forward, with a "get along," and "out of the road," all
+eager to secure a good sight of the ceremony, and none able to hurry
+to a suitable place because of the sand that impeded every step.
+
+"Now then--I can't stay here all day!"
+
+Mr. Mules sniffed and applied the bandanna to his nose, as an
+indication that he was chilled, and that this rheum would be on the
+heads of the congregation, were he made ill by this delay.
+
+"Dearly beloved, we are gathered," he began again, and he was now able
+to proceed.
+
+"Cruel," said he in loud and emphatic tones, "wilt thou have this
+woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in
+the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor,
+and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep
+thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?"
+
+The response of Coppinger went through the heart of Judith like a
+knife. Then the rector addressed her. For answer she looked up at him
+and moved her lips. He took her hand and placed it in that of
+Coppinger. It was cold as ice and quivering like an aspen leaf. As
+Captain Coppinger held it, it seemed to drag and become heavy in his
+hand, whilst he pronounced the words after the rector, making oath to
+take Judith as his own. Then the same words were recited to her, for
+her to repeat in order after the priest. She began, she moved her
+lips, looked him pleadingly in the face, her head swam, the fog filled
+the whole church and settled between her and the rector. She felt
+nothing save the grip of Coppinger's hand, and sank unconscious to the
+ground.
+
+"Go forward," said Cruel. Mr. Menaida and Aunt Dionysia caught Judith
+and held her up. She could neither speak nor stir. Her lips were
+unclosed, she seemed to be gasping for breath like one drowning.
+
+"Go on," persisted Cruel, and holding her left hand he thrust the ring
+on her fourth finger, repeating the words of the formula.
+
+"I cannot proceed," said the Reverend Desiderius.
+
+"Then you will have to come again to-morrow."
+
+"She is unconscious," objected the rector.
+
+"It is momentary only," said Aunt Dionysia; "be quick and finish."
+
+Mr. Mules hesitated a moment. He had no wish to return in like weather
+on another day; no wish again to be kept waiting five and twenty
+minutes. He rushed at the remainder of the office and concluded it at
+a hand gallop.
+
+"Now," said he, "the registers are at the rectory. Come there."
+
+Coppinger looked at Judith.
+
+"Not to-day. It is not possible. She is ill--faint. To-morrow. Neither
+she nor I nor the witnesses will run away. We will come to you
+to-morrow."
+
+Uncle Zachie offered to assist Judith from the church.
+
+"No," said Cruel, peremptorily, "she is mine now."
+
+She was able with assistance to walk, she seemed to recover for a
+moment in the air outside, but again lapsed into faintness on being
+placed in the chaise.
+
+"To Pentyre Glaze," ordered Coppinger; "our home."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+A BREAKFAST.
+
+
+"She has been over-exerted, over-excited," said Miss Trevisa. "Leave
+her to recover; in a few days she will be herself again. Remember, her
+father died of heart complaint, and though Judith resembles her mother
+rather than a Trevisa, she may have inherited from my brother just
+that one thing she had better have let him carry to his grave with
+him."
+
+So Judith was given the little room that adjoined her aunt's, and Miss
+Trevisa postponed for a week her migration to Othello Cottage.
+
+Aunt Dionysia was uneasy about her niece; perhaps her conscience did
+suffer from some qualms when she saw how Judith shrank from the union
+she had driven her into for her own selfish convenience. She treated
+her in the wisest manner, now she had brought her to the Glaze, for
+she placed her in her old room next her own, and left her there to
+herself. Judith could hear her aunt walking about and muttering in the
+adjoining chamber, and was content to be left alone to recover her
+composure and strength.
+
+Uncle Zachie and Jump were, however, in sore distress; they had made
+the trim cottage ready, had prepared a wedding breakfast, engaged a
+helping hand or two, and no one had come to partake. Nor was Mr.
+Desiderius Mules in a cheerful mood. He had been invited to the
+breakfast, and was hungry and cold. He had to wait while Mr. Menaida
+ran up to Pentyre to know whether any one was going to honor his
+board. While he was away the rector stamped about the parlor, growling
+that he believed he was about to be "choused out of his breakfast.
+There was really no knowing what these people in this out-of-the-world
+corner might do." Then he pulled off his boots and shook the sand out,
+rang for Jump, and asked at what hour precisely the breakfast was to
+be eaten, and whether it was put on table to be looked at only.
+
+From Pentyre Glaze Mr. Menaida was not greatly successful in obtaining
+guests. He found some wild-looking men there in converse with
+Coppinger, men whom he knew by rumor to belong to a class that had no
+ostensible profession and means of living.
+
+Mr. Menaida had ordered in clotted cream, which would not keep sweet
+many days. It ought to be eaten at once. He wanted to know whether
+Coppinger, the bride, Miss Trevisa, anyone was coming to his house to
+consume the clotted cream. As Jamie was drifting about purposeless,
+and he alone seemed disposed to accompany Uncle Zachie, the old
+gentleman carried him off.
+
+"I s'pose I can't on the spur of the moment go in and ask over St.
+Minver parson?" asked Menaida, dubiously, of the St. Enodoc parson.
+"You see I daresay he's hurt not to have had the coupling of 'em
+himself."
+
+"Most certainly not," said Mr. Mules; "an appetite is likely to go
+into faintness unless attended to at once. I know that the coats of my
+stomach are honeycombed with gastric juice. Shall I say grace? Another
+half-hour of delay will finish me."
+
+Consequently but three persons sat down to a plentiful meal; but some
+goose, cold, had hardly been served, when in came Mr. Scantlebray, the
+agent, with a cheery salutation of "Hulloa, Menaida, old man! What,
+eating and drinking? I'll handle a knife and fork with you, unasked.
+Beg pardon, Mr. Mules. I'm a rough man, and an old acquaintance of our
+good friend here. Hope I see you in the enjoyment of robust health,
+sir. Oh, Menaida, old man! I didn't expect such a thing as this. Now I
+begin to see daylight, and understand why I was turned out of the
+valuership, and why my brother lost this promising young pupil. Ah,
+ha! my man, you have been deprived of fun, such fun, roaring fun, by
+not being with my brother Scanty. Well, sir," to Mr. Mules, "what was
+the figure of the valuation? You had a queer man on your side. I pity
+you. A man I wouldn't trust myself. I name no names. Now tell me, what
+did you get?"
+
+"A hundred and twenty-seven pounds four and ninepence farthing.
+Monstrous--a chouse."
+
+"As you say, monstrous. Why that chancel, show me the builder who
+will contract to do that alone at a hundred and twenty-seven pounds?
+And the repairs of the vestry--are they to be reckoned at four and
+ninepence farthing? It is a swindle. I'd appeal. I'd refuse. You made
+a mistake, sir, let me tell you, in falling into certain hands.
+Yes--I'll have some goose, thank you."
+
+Mr. Scantlebray ate heartily, so did the Reverend Desiderius, who had
+the honeycomb cells of his stomach coats to fill.
+
+Both, moreover, did justice to Mr. Menaida's wine, they did not spare
+it; why should they? Those for whom the board was spread had not
+troubled to come to it, and they must make amends for their neglect.
+
+"Horrible weather," said the rector. "I suppose this detestable sort
+of stuff of which the atmosphere is composed is the prevailing
+abomination one has to inhale throughout three-quarters of the year.
+One cannot see three yards before one."
+
+"It's bad for some and good for others," answered Scantlebray.
+"There'll be wrecks, certainly, after this, especially if we get, as
+we are pretty sure to get, a wind ashore."
+
+"Wrecks!" exclaimed the Rector, "and pray who pays the fees for
+drowned men I may be expected to bury?"
+
+"The parish," answered Uncle Zachie.
+
+"Oh, half-a-crown a head," said Mr. Mules, contemptuously.
+
+"There are other things to be had besides burial fees out of a wreck,"
+said Scantlebray; "but you must be down early before the coast-guard
+are there. Have you donkeys?"
+
+"Donkeys! What for?"
+
+"I have one, a gray beauty," exclaimed Jamie; "Captain Coppinger gave
+her to me."
+
+"Well, young man, then you pick up what you can, when you have the
+chance, and lade her with your findings. You'll pick up something
+better than corpses, and make something more than burial half-crowns."
+
+"But why do you suppose there will be wrecks?" inquired the rector of
+St. Enodoc. "There is no storm."
+
+"No storm, certainly, but there is fog, and in the fog vessels coming
+up the Channel to Bristol get lost as to their bearings, get near our
+cliffs without knowing it, and then--if a wind from the west spring up
+and blows rough--they are done for, they can't escape to the open.
+That's it, old man. I beg your Reverence's pardon, I mean, sir. When I
+said that such weather was bad for some and good for others you can
+understand me now--bad for the wrecked, good for the wreckers."
+
+"But surely you have no wreckers here?"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray laughed. "Go and tell the bridegroom that you think
+so. I'll let you into the knowledge of one thing"--he winked over his
+glass--"there's a fine merchantman on her way to Bristol."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Know! Because she was sighted off St. Ives, and the tidings has run
+up the coast like fire among heather. I don't doubt it that it has
+reached Hartland by this; and with a thick fog like to-day there are a
+thousand hearts beating with expectation. Who can say? She may be
+laden with gold-dust from Africa, or with tin from Barca, or with port
+from Oporto."
+
+"My boy Oliver is coming home," said Mr. Menaida.
+
+"Then let's hope he is not in this vessel, for, old man, she stands a
+bad chance in such weather as this. There is Porth-quin, and there is
+Hayle Bay ready to receive her, or Doom Bar on which she may run, all
+handy for our people. Are you anything of a sportsman, sir?"
+
+"A little--but I don't fancy there is much in this precious
+country--no cover."
+
+"What is fox-hunting when you come to consider--or going after a snipe
+or a partridge? A fox! it's naught, the brush stinks, and a snipe is
+but a mouthful. My dear sir, if you come to live among us, you must
+seek your sport not on the land but at sea. You'll find the sport
+worth something when you get a haul of a barrel of first-rate sherry,
+or a load of silver ingots. Why, that's how Penwarden bought his farm.
+He got the money after a storm--found it on the shore out of the
+pocket of a dead man. Do you know why the bells of St. Enodoc are so
+sweet? Because, so folks say, melted into them are ingots of Peruvian
+silver from a ship wrecked on Doom Bar."
+
+"I should like to get some silver or gold," said Jamie.
+
+"I daresay you would, and so perhaps you may if you look out for it.
+Go to your good friend, Captain Coppinger, and tell him what you want.
+He has made his pickings before now on shore and off wrecks, and has
+not given up the practice."
+
+"But," said Mr. Mules, "do you mean to tell me that you people in this
+benighted corner of the world live like sharks, upon whatever is cast
+overboard?"
+
+"No, I do not," answered Scantlebray. "We have too much energy and
+intelligence for that. We don't always wait till it is cast overboard,
+we go aboard and take what we want."
+
+"What, steal!"
+
+"I don't call that stealing when Providence and a southwest wind
+throws a ship into our laps, when we put in our fingers and pick out
+the articles we want. What are Porth-quin and Hayle Bay but our laps,
+in which lie the wrecks heaven sends us? And Doom Bar, what is that
+but a counter on which the good things are spread, and those first
+there get the first share?"
+
+"And pray," said Mr. Desiderius Mules, "have the owners of the
+vessels, the passengers, the captains, no objections to make?"
+
+"They are not there. Don't wait for our people. If they do--so much
+the worse for them." Then Scantlebray laughed. "There's a good story
+told of the Zenobia, lost four years ago. There was a lady on board.
+When she knew the vessel was on Doom Bar she put on all her jewelry,
+to escape with it. But some of our people got to the wreck before she
+got off it, and one lobe of her ears got torn off."
+
+"Torn off?"
+
+"Yes--in pulling the earrings off her."
+
+"But who pulled the earrings off her?"
+
+"Our people."
+
+"Gracious heavens! Were they not brought to justice?"
+
+"Who did it? no one knew. What became of the jewelry? no one knew. All
+that was known was that Lady Knighton--that was her name--lost her
+diamonds and the lobe of her right ear as well."
+
+"And it was never recovered?"
+
+"What! the lobe of her ear?"
+
+"No, the jewelry."
+
+"Never."
+
+"Upon my word I have got among a parcel of scoundrels. It is high time
+that I should come and reform them. I'll set to work at once. I'll
+have St. Enodoc dug out and restored, and I'll soon put an end to this
+sort of thing."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"You don't know me. I'll have a bazaar. I'll have a ball in the
+Assembly Rooms at Wadebridge. The church shall be excavated. I'm not
+going in there again with the bats, to have my boots filled with sand,
+I can tell you--everything shall be renovated and put to rights. I'll
+see to it at once. I'll have a pigeon shooting for the sake of my
+chancel--I daresay I shall raise twenty pounds by that alone--and a
+raffle for the font, and an Aunt Sally for the pulpit. But the ball
+will be the main thing, I'll send and get the county people to
+patronize. I'll do it, and you barbarians in this benighted corner of
+the world shall see there is a man of energy among you."
+
+"You'd best try your hand on a wreck. You'll get more off that."
+
+"And I'll have a bran pie for an altar-table."
+
+"You won't get the parishioners to do anything for the restoration of
+the church. They don't want to have it restored."
+
+"The Decalogue is rotten. I ran my umbrella through the Ten
+Commandments this morning. I'll have a gypsy camp and fortune-telling
+to furnish me with new Commandments."
+
+"I've heard tell," said Scantlebray, "that at Ponghill, near Stratton,
+is a four-post bed of pure gold came off a wreck in Bude Bay."[C]
+
+    [C] An exaggeration. The bed of seventeenth century Italian
+    work, is gilt. It is now in a small farmhouse.
+
+"When I was in the North," said the rector of St. Enodoc, "we had a
+savage who bit off the heads of rats, snap, skinned them and ate them
+raw, and charged sixpence entrance; but that was for the missionaries.
+I should hardly advocate that for the restoration of a church;
+besides, where is the savage to be got? We made twenty-seven pounds by
+that man, but expenses were heavy and swallowed up twenty-five; we
+sent two pounds to the missionaries."
+
+Mr. Menaida stood up and went to the window.
+
+"I believe the wind has shifted to the north, and we shall have a
+lightening of the fog after sunset."
+
+"Shall we not have a wreck! I hope there'll be one," said Jamie.
+
+"What is the law about wreckage, Menaida, old man?" asked Scantlebray,
+also coming to the window.
+
+"The law is plain enough. No one has a right to goods come to land; he
+who finds may claim salvage--naught else; and any persons taking goods
+cast ashore, which are not legal wreck, may be punished."
+
+"And," said Scantlebray, "what if certain persons give occasion to a
+ship being wrecked, and then plundering the wreck?"
+
+"There the law is also plain. The invading and robbing of a vessel,
+either in distress or wrecked, and the putting forth of false lights
+in order to bring a vessel into danger, are capital felonies."
+
+Scantlebray went to the table, took up a napkin, twisted it and then
+flung it round his neck, and hung his head on one side.
+
+"What--this, Menaida, old man?"
+
+Uncle Zachie nodded.
+
+"Come here, Jim, my boy, a word with you outside." Scantlebray led
+Jamie into the road. "There's been a shilling owing you for some time.
+We had roaring fun about it once. Here it is. Now listen to me. Go to
+Pentyre, you want to find gold-dust on the shore, don't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Or bars of silver?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, beg Captain Coppinger, if he is going to have a Jack o' Lantern
+to-night, to let you be the Jack. Do you understand? and mind--not a
+word about me. Then gold-dust and bars of silver and purses of
+shillings. Mind you ask to be Jack o' Lantern. It is fun. Such fun.
+Roaring fun."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+JACK O' LANTERN.
+
+
+Evening closed in; Judith had been left entirely to herself. She sat
+in the window, looking out into the mist and watching the failing of
+the light. Sometimes she opened the casement and allowed the vapor to
+blow in like cold steam, then became chilled, shivered, and closed it
+again. The wind was rising and piped about the house, piped at her
+window. Judith, sitting there, tried with her hand to find the crevice
+through which the blast drove, and then amused herself with playing
+with her finger-tops on the openings and regulating the whistle so as
+to form a tune. She heard frequently Coppinger's voice in
+conversation, sometimes in the hall, sometimes in the court-yard, but
+could not catch what was spoken. She listened, with childish
+curiosity, to the voice that was now that of her lord and husband, and
+endeavored to riddle out of it some answer to her questions as to what
+sort of a master he would prove. She could not comprehend him. She had
+heard stories told of him that made her deem him the worst of men,
+remorseless and regardless of others, yet toward her he had proved
+gentle and considerate. What, for instance, could be more delicate and
+thoughtful than his behavior to her at this very time! Feeling that
+she had married him with reluctance, he had kept away from her and
+suffered her to recover her composure without affording her additional
+struggle. A reaction after the strain on her nerves set in; the step
+she had dreaded had been taken, and she was the wife of the man she
+feared and did not love. The suspense of expectation was exchanged for
+the calmer grief of retrospect.
+
+The fog all day had been white as wool, and she had noticed how
+parcels of vapor had been caught and entangled in the thorn bushes as
+the fog swept by, very much as sheep left flocks of their fleece in
+the bushes when they broke out of a field. Now that the day set, the
+vapor lost its whiteness and became ash gray, but it was not as dense
+as it had been, or rather it was compacted in places into thick masses
+with clear tracts between. The sea was not visible, nor the cliffs,
+but she could distinguish out-buildings, tufts of furze and hedges.
+The wind blew much stronger, and she could hear the boom of the waves
+against the rocks, like the throbbing of the unseen heart of the
+world. It was louder than it had been. The sound did not come upon the
+wind, for the fog that muffled all objects from sight, muffled also
+all sounds to the ear, but the boom came from the vibration of the
+land. The sea flung against the coast-line shook the rocks, and they
+quivered for a long distance inland, making every wall and tree quiver
+also, and the sound of the sea was heard not through the ears but
+through the soles of the feet.
+
+Miss Trevisa came in.
+
+"Shall I light you a pair of candles, Judith?"
+
+"I thank you, hardly yet."
+
+"And will you not eat?"
+
+"Yes, presently, when supper is served."
+
+"You will come down-stairs?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I am glad to hear that."
+
+"Aunt, I thought you were going to Othello Cottage the day I came
+here."
+
+"Captain Coppinger will not suffer me to leave at once till you have
+settled down to your duties as mistress of the house."
+
+"Oh, auntie! I shall never be able to manage this large
+establishment."
+
+"Why not! You managed that at the rectory."
+
+"Yes, but it was so different."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"My dear papa's requirements were so simple, and so few, and there
+were no men about except old Balhachet, and he was a dear, good old
+humbug. Here, I don't know how many men there are, and who belong to
+the house, and who do not. They are in one day and out the next--and
+then Captain Coppinger is not like my own darling papa."
+
+"No, indeed, he is not. Shall I light the candles? I have something to
+show you."
+
+"As you will, aunt."
+
+Miss Trevisa went into her room and fetched a light, and kindled the
+two candles that stood on Judith's dressing-table.
+
+"Oh, aunt! not three candles."
+
+"Why not? We shall need light."
+
+"But three candles together bring ill-luck; and we have had enough
+already."
+
+"Pshaw! Don't be a fool. I want light, for I have something to show
+you."
+
+She opened a small box and drew forth a brooch and earrings that
+flashed in the rays of the candle.
+
+"Look, child! they are yours. Captain Coppinger has given them to you.
+They are diamonds. See--a butterfly for the breast, and two little
+butterflies for the ears."
+
+"Oh, auntie! not for me. I do not want them."
+
+"This is ungracious. I daresay they cost many hundreds of pounds. They
+are diamonds."
+
+Judith took the brooch and earrings in her hand; they sparkled. The
+diamonds were far from being brilliants, they were of good size and
+purest water.
+
+"I really do not want to have them. Persuade Captain Coppinger to
+return them to the jeweller, it is far too costly a gift for me,
+far--far--I should be happier without them." Then, suddenly--"I do not
+know that they have been bought? Oh, Aunt Dunes, tell me truly. Have
+they been bought? I think jewellers always send out their goods in
+leather cases, and there is none such for these. And see--this
+earring--the gold is bent, as if pulled out of shape. I am sure they
+have not been bought. Take them back again, I pray you."
+
+"You little fool!" said Miss Trevisa, angrily. "I will do nothing of
+the kind. If you refuse them--then take them back yourself. Captain
+Coppinger performs a generous and kind act that costs him much money,
+and you throw his gift in his face, you insult him. Insult him
+yourself with your suspicions and refusals--you have already behaved
+to him outrageously. I will do nothing for you that you ask. Your
+father put on me a task that is hateful, and I wish I were clear of
+it."
+
+Then she bounced out of the room, leaving her candle burning along
+with the other two.
+
+A moment later she came back hastily and closed Judith's shutters.
+
+"Oh, leave them open," pleaded Judith. "I shall like to see how the
+night goes--if the fog clears away."
+
+"No--I will not," answered Miss Trevisa, roughly. "And mind you. These
+shutters remain shut, or your candles go out. Your window commands
+the sea, and the light of your window must not show."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because should the fog lift, it would be seen by vessels."
+
+"Why should they not see it?"
+
+"You are a fool. Obey, and ask no questions."
+
+Miss Trevisa put up the bar and then retired with her candle, leaving
+Judith to her own thoughts, with the diamonds on the table before her.
+
+And her thoughts were reproachful of herself. She was ungracious and
+perhaps unjust. Her husband had sent her a present of rare value, and
+she was disposed to reject it, and charge him with not having come by
+the diamonds honestly. They were not new from a jeweller, but what of
+that? Could he afford to buy her a set at the price of some hundreds
+of pounds? And because he had not obtained them from a jeweller, did
+it follow that he had taken them unlawfully? He might have picked them
+up on the shore, or have bought them from a man who had. He might have
+obtained them at a sale in the neighborhood. They might be family
+jewels, that had belonged to his mother, and he was showing her the
+highest honor a man could show a woman in asking her to wear the
+ornaments that had belonged to his mother.
+
+He had exhibited to her a store-room full of beautiful things, but
+these might be legitimately his, brought from foreign countries by his
+ship the Black Prince. It was possible that they were not contraband
+articles.
+
+Judith opened her door and went down-stairs. In the hall she found
+Coppinger with two or three men, but the moment he saw her he started
+up, came to meet her, and drew her aside into a parlor, then went back
+into the hall and fetched candles. A fire was burning in this room,
+ready for her, should she condescend to use it.
+
+"I hope I have not interrupted you," she said, timidly.
+
+"An agreeable interruption. At any time you have only to show yourself
+and I will at once come to you, and never ask to be dismissed."
+
+She knew that this was no empty compliment, that he meant it from the
+depth of his heart, and was sorry that she could not respond to an
+affection so deep and so sincere.
+
+"You have been very good to me--more good than I deserve," she said,
+standing by the fire with lowered eyes, "I must thank you now for a
+splendid and beautiful present, and I really do not know how to find
+words in which fittingly to acknowledge it."
+
+"You cannot thank and gratify me better than by wearing what I have
+given you."
+
+"But when? Surely not on an ordinary evening?"
+
+"No--certainly. The Rector has been up this afternoon and desired to
+see you, he is hot on a scheme for a public ball to be given at
+Wadebridge for the restoration of his church, and he has asked that
+you will be a patroness."
+
+"I--oh--I!--after my father's death?"
+
+"That was in the late spring, and now it is the early winter, besides,
+now you are a married lady--and was not the digging out and restoring
+of the church your father's strong desire?"
+
+"Yes--but he would never have had a ball for such a purpose."
+
+"The money must be raised somehow. So I promised for you. You could
+not well refuse--he was impatient to be off to Wadebridge and secure
+the assembly rooms."
+
+"But--Captain Coppinger--"
+
+"Captain Coppinger?"
+
+Judith colored. "I beg your pardon--I forgot. And now--I do not
+recollect what I was going to say. It matters nothing. If you wish me
+to go I will go. If you wish me to wear diamond butterflies I will
+wear them."
+
+"I thank you." He held out his hands to her.
+
+She drew back slightly and folded her palms as though praying. "I will
+do much to please you, but do not press me too greatly. I am strange
+in this house, strange in my new situation; give me time to breathe
+and look round and recover my confidence. Besides, we are only
+half-married so far."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"I have not signed the register."
+
+"No, but that shall be done to-morrow."
+
+"Yes, to-morrow--but that gives me breathing time. You will be patient
+and forbearing with me." She put forward her hands folded and he put
+his outside them and pressed them. The flicker of the fire lent a
+little color to her cheeks and surrounded her head with an aureole of
+spun gold.
+
+"Judith, I will do anything you ask. I love you with all my soul, past
+speaking. I am your slave. But do not hold me too long in chains, do
+not tread me too ruthlessly under foot."
+
+"Give me time," she pleaded.
+
+"I will give you a little time," he answered.
+
+Then she withdrew her hands from between his and sped up stairs,
+leaving him looking into the fire with troubled face.
+
+When she returned to her room the candles were still burning, and the
+diamonds lay on the dressing-table where she had left them. She took
+the brooch and earrings to return them to their box, and then noticed
+for the first time that they were wrapped in paper, not in
+cotton-wool. She tapped at her aunt's door, and entering asked if she
+had any cotton-wool that she could spare her.
+
+"No, I have not. What do you want it for?"
+
+"For the jewelry. It cannot have come from a shop, as it was wrapped
+in paper only."
+
+"It will take no hurt. Wrap it in paper again."
+
+"I had rather not, auntie. Besides, I have some cotton-wool in my
+workbox."
+
+"Then use it."
+
+"But my workbox has not been brought here. It is at Mr. Menaida's."
+
+"You can fetch it to-morrow."
+
+"But I am lost without my needles and thread. Besides, I do not like
+to leave my workbox about. I will go for it. The walk will do me
+good."
+
+"Nonsense, it is falling dark."
+
+"I will get Uncle Zachie to walk back with me. I must have my workbox.
+Besides, the fresh air will do me good, and the fog has lifted."
+
+"As you will, then."
+
+So Judith put on her cloak and drew a hood over her head and went back
+to Polzeath. She knew the way perfectly, there was no danger, night
+had not closed in. It would be a pleasure to her to see the old
+bird-stuffer's face again, and she wanted to find Jamie. She had not
+seen him nor heard his voice, and she supposed he must be at Polzeath.
+
+On her arrival at the double cottage, the old fellow was delighted to
+see her, and to see that she had recovered from the distress and
+faintness of the morning sufficiently to be able to walk back to his
+house from her new home. Her first question was after Jamie. Uncle
+Zachie told her that Jamie had breakfasted at his table, but he had
+gone away in the afternoon and he had seen no more of him. The fire
+was lighted, and Uncle Zachie insisted on Judith sitting by it with
+him and talking over the events of the day, and on telling him that
+she was content with her position, reconciled to the change of her
+state.
+
+She sat longer with him than she had intended, listening to his
+disconnected chatter, and then nothing would suffice him but she must
+sit at the piano and play through his favorite pieces.
+
+"Remember, Judith, it is the last time I shall have you here to give
+me this pleasure."
+
+She could not refuse him his request, especially as he was to walk
+back to Pentyre with her. Thus time passed, and it was with alarm and
+self-reproach that she started up on hearing the clock strike the
+half-past, and learned that it was half-past nine, and not half-past
+eight, as she supposed.
+
+As she now insisted on departing, Mr. Menaida put on his hat.
+
+"Shall we take a light?" he asked, and then said: "No, we had better
+not. On such a night as this a moving light is dangerous."
+
+"How can it be dangerous?" asked Judith.
+
+"Not to us, my dear child, but to ships at sea. A stationary light
+might serve as a warning, but a moving light misleads. The captain of
+a vessel, if he has lost his bearings, as is like enough in the fog,
+as soon as the mist rises, would see a light gliding along and think
+it was that of a vessel at sea, and so make in the direction of the
+light in the belief that there was open water, and so run directly on
+his destruction."
+
+"Oh, no, no, Uncle, we will not take a light."
+
+Mr. Menaida and Judith went out together, she with her workbox under
+her arm, he with his stick, and her hand resting on his arm. The night
+was dark, very dark, but the way led for the most part over down, and
+there was just sufficient light in the sky for the road to be
+distinguishable. It would be in the lane, between the walls and where
+overhung by thorns, that the darkness would be most profound. The wind
+was blowing strongly and the sound of the breakers came on it now, for
+the cloud had lifted off land and sea, though still hanging low. Very
+dense overhead it could not be, or no light would have pierced the
+vaporous canopy.
+
+Uncle Zachie and Judith walked on talking together, and she felt
+cheered by his presence, when all at once she stopped, pressed his
+arm, and said:
+
+"Oh, do look, uncle! What is that light?"
+
+In the direction of the cliffs a light was distinctly visible, now
+rising, now falling, observing an unevenly undulating motion.
+
+"Oh, uncle? It is too dreadful. Some foolish person is on the downs
+going home with a lantern, and it may lead to a dreadful error, and a
+wreck."
+
+"I hope to heaven it is only what you say."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"That it is not done wilfully."
+
+"Wilfully!"
+
+"Yes, with the purpose to mislead. Look. The movement of the light is
+exactly that of a ship on a rolling sea."
+
+"Uncle, let us go there at once and stop it."
+
+"I don't know, my dear; if it be done by some unprincipled ruffian he
+would not be stopped by us."
+
+"It must be stopped. And, oh, think! you told me that your Oliver is
+coming home. Think of him."
+
+"We will go."
+
+Mr. Menaida was drawn along by Judith in her eagerness. They left the
+road to Pentyre, and struck out over the downs, keeping their eyes on
+the light. The distance was deceptive. It seemed to have been much
+nearer than they found it actually to be.
+
+"Look! it is coming back!" exclaimed Judith.
+
+"Yes, it is done wilfully. That is to give the appearance of a vessel
+tacking up Channel. Stay behind, Judith. I will go on."
+
+"No. I will go with you. You would not find me again in the darkness
+if we parted."
+
+"The light is coming this way. Stand still. It will come directly on
+us."
+
+They drew up. Judith clung to Uncle Zachie's side, her heart beating
+with excitement, indignation, and anger.
+
+"The lantern is fastened to an ass's head," said Uncle Zachie; "do you
+see how as the creature moves his head the light is swayed, and that
+with the rise and fall in the land it looks as though the rise and
+fall were on the sea. I have my stick. Stand behind me, Judith."
+
+But a voice was heard that made her gasp and clasp the arm of Uncle
+Zachie the tighter.
+
+Neither spoke.
+
+The light approached. They could distinguish the lantern, though they
+could not see what bore it; only--next moment something caught the
+light--the ear of a donkey thrust forward.
+
+Again a voice, that of some one urging on the ass.
+
+Judith let go Menaida's arm, sprang forward with a cry: "Jamie! Jamie!
+what are you doing!"
+
+In a moment she had wrenched the lantern from the head of the ass, and
+the creature, startled, dashed away and disappeared in the darkness.
+Judith put the light under her cloak.
+
+"Oh, Jamie! Jamie! Why have you done this! Who ever set you to this
+wicked task?"
+
+"I am Jack o' Lantern," answered the boy. "Ju! now my Neddy is gone."
+
+"Jamie, who sent you out to do this? Answer me."
+
+"Captain Coppinger!"
+
+Judith walked on in silence. Neither she nor Uncle Zachie spoke, only
+Jamie whimpered and muttered.
+
+Suddenly they were surrounded, and a harsh voice exclaimed:
+
+"In the king's name. We have you now--showing false lights."
+
+Judith hastily slung the lantern from beneath her cloak, and saw that
+there were several men about her, and that the speaker was Mr.
+Scantlebray.
+
+The latter was surprised when he recognized her.
+
+"What!" he said, "I did not expect this--pretty quickly into your
+apprenticeship. What brings you here! And you, too, Menaida, old man?"
+
+"Nothing simpler," answered Uncle Zachie. "I am accompanying Mrs.
+Coppinger back to the Glaze."
+
+"What, married in the morning and roving the downs at night?"
+
+"I have been to Polzeath after my workbox--here it is," said Judith.
+
+"Oh, you are out of your road to Pentyre--I suppose you know that,"
+sneered Scantlebray.
+
+"Naturally," replied Mr. Menaida. "It is dark enough for any one to
+stray. Why! you don't suspect me, do you, of showing false lights and
+endeavoring to wreck vessels! That would be too good a joke--and the
+offence, as I told you--capital."
+
+Scantlebray uttered an oath and turned to the men and said: "Captain
+Cruel is too deep for us this time. I thought he had sent the boy out
+with the ass--instead he has sent his wife--a wife of a few hours, and
+never told her the mischief she was to do with the lantern--hark!"
+
+From the sea the boom of a gun.
+
+All stood still as if rooted to the spot.
+
+Then again the boom of a gun.
+
+"There is a wreck!" exclaimed Scantlebray. "I thought so--and you,
+Mistress Orphing, you're guilty." He turned to the men. "We can make
+nothing of this affair with the lantern. Let us catch the sea-wolves
+falling on their prey."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+THE SEA-WOLVES.
+
+
+On the Doom Bar.
+
+That very merchantman was wrecked, over which so many Cornish mouths
+had watered, ay, and Devonian mouths also, from the moment she had
+been sighted at St. Ives.
+
+She had been entangled in the fog, not knowing where she was, all her
+bearings lost. The wind had risen, and when the day darkened into
+night the mist had lifted in cruel kindness to show a false glimmer,
+that was at once taken as the light of a ship beating up the Channel.
+The head of the merchantman was put about, a half-reefed topsail
+spread, and she ran on her destruction. With a crash she was on the
+bar. The great bowlers that roll without a break from Labrador rushed
+on behind, beat her, hammered her farther and farther into the sand,
+surged up at each stroke, swept the decks with mingled foam and water
+and spray.
+
+The main-mast went down with a snap. Bent with the sail, at the jerk,
+as the vessel ran aground, it broke and came down--top-mast, rigging,
+and sail, in an enveloping, draggled mass. From that moment the
+captain's voice was no more heard. Had he been struck by the falling
+mast and stunned or beaten overboard? or did he lie on deck enveloped
+and smothered in wet sail, or had he been caught and strangled by the
+cordage? None knew, none inquired. A wild panic seized crew and
+passengers alike. The chief mate had the presence of mind to order the
+discharge of signals of distress--but the order was imperfectly
+carried out. A flash, illuminating for a second the glittering froth
+and heaving sea, then a boom--almost stunned by the roar of the sea,
+and the screams of women and oaths of sailors, and then panic laid
+hold of the gunner also and he deserted his post.
+
+The word had gone round, none knew from whom, that the vessel had
+been lured to her destruction by wreckers, and that in a few minutes
+she would be boarded by these wolves of the sea. The captain, who
+should have kept order, had disappeared, the mate was disregarded,
+there was a general _sauve qui peut_. A few women were on board. At
+the shock they had come on deck, some with children, and the latter
+were wailing and shrieking with terror. The women implored that they
+might be saved. Men passengers ran about asking what was to be done,
+and were beaten aside and cursed by the frantic sailors. A Portuguese
+nun was ill with sea-sickness, and sank on the deck like a log, crying
+to St. Joseph between her paroxysms. One man alone seemed to maintain
+his self-possession, a young man, and he did his utmost to soothe the
+excited women and abate their terrors. He raised the prostrate nun and
+insisted on her laying hold of a rope, lest in the swash of the water
+she should be carried overboard. He entreated the mate to exert his
+authority and bring the sailors to a sense of their duty, to save the
+women instead of escaping in the boat, regardful of themselves only.
+
+Suddenly a steady star, red in color, glared out of the darkness, and
+between it and the wreck heaved and tossed a welter of waves and foam.
+
+"There is land," shouted the mate.
+
+"And that shines just where that light was that led us here," retorted
+a sailor.
+
+The vessel heeled to one side, and shipped water fore and aft, over
+either rail, with a hiss and heave. She plunged, staggered, and sank
+deeper into the sand.
+
+A boat had been lowered and three men were in it, and called to the
+women to be sharp and join them. But this was no easy matter, for the
+boat at one moment leaped up on the comb of a black wave, and then
+sank in its yawning trough, now was close to the side of the ship, and
+then separated from it by a rift of water. The frightened women were
+let down by ropes, but in their bewilderment missed their opportunity
+when the boat was under them, and some fell into the water, and had to
+be dragged out, others refused to leave the wreck and risk a leap into
+the little boat. Nothing would induce the sick nun to venture
+overboard. She could not understand English; the young passenger
+addressed her in Portuguese, and finally, losing all patience and
+finding that precious time was wasted in arguing with a poor creature
+incapable of reasoning in her present condition, he ordered a sailor
+to help him, caught her up in his arms, and proceeded to swing himself
+over, that he might carry her into the boat.
+
+But at that moment dark figures occupied the deck, and a man arrested
+him with his hand, while in a loud and authoritative voice he called,
+"No one leaves the vessel without my orders. Number Five, down into
+the boat and secure that. Number Seven, go with him. Now, one by one,
+and before each leaves, give over your purses and valuables that you
+are trying to save. No harm shall be done you, only make no
+resistance."
+
+The ship was in the hands of the wreckers.
+
+The men in the boat would have cast off at once, but the two men sent
+into it, Numbers Five and Seven, prevented them. The presence of the
+wreckers produced order where there had been confusion before. The man
+who had laid his hand on the Portuguese nun, and had given orders, was
+obeyed not only by his own men, but by the crew of the merchant
+vessel, and by the passengers, from whom all thoughts of resistance,
+if they ever rose, vanished at once. All alike, cowed and docile,
+obeyed without a murmur, and began to produce from their pockets
+whatever they had secured and hoped to carry ashore with them.
+
+"Nudding! me nudding!" gasped the nun.
+
+"Let her pass down," ordered the man who acted as captain. "Now the
+next--you!" he turned on the young passenger who had assisted the nun.
+
+"You scoundrel," shouted the young man, "you shall not have a penny of
+mine."
+
+"We shall see," answered the wrecker, and levelled a pistol at his
+head. "What answer do you make to this?"
+
+The young man struck up the pistol, and it was discharged into the
+air. Then he sprang on the captain, struck him in the chest, and
+grappled with him. In a moment a furious contest was engaged in
+between the two on the wet, sloping deck, sloping, for the cargo had
+shifted.
+
+"Hah!" shouted the wrecker, "a Cornishman."
+
+"Yes, a Cornishman," answered the youth.
+
+The wrecker knew whence he came by his method of wrestling.
+
+If there had been light, crew, invaders, and passengers would have
+gathered in a circle and watched the contest; but in the dark, lashed
+by foam, in the roar of the waves and the pipe of the wind, only one
+or two that were near were aware of the conflict. Some of the crew
+were below. They had got at the spirits and were drinking. One drunken
+sailor rushed forth swearing and blaspheming and striking about him.
+He was knocked down by a wrecker, and a wave that heaved over the deck
+lifted him and swept him over the bulwarks.
+
+The wrestle between the two men in the dark taxed the full nerves and
+the skill of each. The young passenger was strong and nimble, but he
+had found his match in the wrecker. The latter was skilful and of
+great muscular power. First one went down on the knee, then the other,
+but each was up again in a moment. A blinding whiff of foam and water
+slashed between them, stinging their eyes, swashing into their mouths,
+forcing them momentarily to relax their hold of each other, but next
+moment they had leaped at each other again. Now they held each other,
+breast to breast, and sought, with their arms bowed like the legs of
+grasshoppers, to strangle or break each other's necks. Then, like a
+clap of thunder, beat a huge billow against the stern, and rolled in a
+liquid heap over the deck, enveloping the wrestlers, and lifted them
+from their feet and cast them, writhing, pounding each other, on the
+deck.
+
+There were screams and gasps from the women as they escaped from the
+water; the nun shrieked to St. Joseph--she had lost her hold and fell
+overboard, but was caught and placed in the boat.
+
+"Now another," was the shout.
+
+"Hand me your money," demanded one of the wreckers. "Madam, have no
+fear. We do not hurt women. I will help you into the boat."
+
+"I have nothing--nothing but this! what shall I do if you take my
+money?"
+
+"I am sorry--you must either remain and drown when the ship breaks up
+or give me the purse."
+
+She gave up the purse and was safely lodged below.
+
+"Who are you?" gasped the captain of the wreckers in a moment of
+relaxation from the desperate struggle.
+
+"An honest man--and you a villain," retorted the young passenger, and
+the contest was recommenced.
+
+"Let go," said the wrecker, "and you shall be allowed to depart--and
+carry your money with you."
+
+"I ask no man's leave to carry what is my own," answered the youth. He
+put his hand to his waist and unbuckled a belt, to this belt was
+attached a pouch well weighted with metal. "There is all I have in the
+world--and with it I will beat your brains out." He whirled the belt
+and money bag round his head and brought it down with a crash upon his
+adversary, who staggered back. The young man struck at him again, but
+in the dark missed him, and with the violence of the blow and weight
+of the purse was carried forward, and on the slippery inclined planks
+fell.
+
+"Now I have you," shouted the other; he flung himself on the prostrate
+man and planted his knee on his back. But, assisted by the inclination
+of the deck, the young man slipped from beneath his antagonist, and
+half-rising caught him and dashed him against the rail.
+
+The wrecker was staggered for a moment, and had the passenger seized
+the occasion he might have finished the conflict; but his purse had
+slipped from his hand, and he groped for the belt till he found one
+end at his feet, and now he twisted the belt round and about his right
+arm and weighted his fist with the pouch.
+
+The captain recovered from the blow, and flung himself on his
+adversary, grasped his arms between the shoulder and elbow, and bore
+him back against the bulwark, drove him against it, and cast himself
+upon him.
+
+"I've spared your life so far. Now I'll spare you no more," said he,
+and the young man felt one of his arms released. He could not tell at
+the time, he never could decide after how he knew it, but he was
+certain that his enemy was groping at his side for his knife. Then the
+hand of the wrecker closed on his throat, and the young man's head was
+driven back over the rail, almost dislocating the neck.
+
+It was then as though the young man saw into the mind of him who had
+cast himself against him, and who was strangling him. He knew that he
+could not find his knife, but he saw nothing, only a fire and blood
+before his eyes that looked up into the black heavens, and he felt
+naught save agony at the nape of his neck, where his spine was turned
+back on the bulwarks.
+
+"Number Seven! any of you! an axe!" roared the wrecker. "By heaven you
+shall be as Wyvill! and float headless on the waves."
+
+"Coppinger!" cried the young man, by a desperate effort liberating his
+hand. He threw his arms round the wrecker. A dash and a boil of froth,
+and both went overboard, fighting as they fell into the surf.
+
+"In the King's name!" shouted a harsh voice.
+
+"Surround--secure them all. Now we have them and they shall not
+escape."
+
+The wreck was boarded by, and in the hands of, the coast-guard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+BRUISED NOT BROKEN.
+
+
+"Come with me, uncle!" said Judith.
+
+"My dear, I will follow you like a dog, everywhere."
+
+"I want to go to the rectory."
+
+"To the rectory! At this time of night!"
+
+"At once."
+
+When the down was left there was no longer necessity for hiding the
+lantern, as they were within lanes, and the light would not be seen at
+sea.
+
+The distance to the parsonage was not great, and the little party were
+soon there, but were somewhat puzzled how to find the door, owing to
+the radical transformations of the approaches effected by the new
+rector.
+
+Mr. Desiderius Mules was not in bed. He was in his study, without his
+collar and necktie, smoking, and composing a sermon. It is not only
+_lucus_ which is derived from _non lucendo_. A study in many a house
+is equally misnamed. In that of Mr. Mules's house it had some claim,
+perhaps, to its title, for in it, once a week, Mr. Desiderius
+cudgelled his brains how to impart form to an inchoate mass of notes;
+but it hardly deserved its name as a place where the brain was
+exercised in absorption of information. The present study was the old
+pantry. The old study had been occupied by a man of reading and of
+thought. Perhaps it was not unsuitable that the pantry should become
+Mr. Mules's study, and where the maid had emptied her slop-water after
+cleaning forks and plates should be the place for the making of the
+theological slop-water that was to be poured forth on the Sunday.
+But--what a word has been here used--theological--another _lucus a non
+lucendo_, for there was nothing of theology proper in the stuff
+compounded by Mr. Mules.
+
+We shall best be able to judge by observing him engaged on his sermon
+for Sunday.
+
+In his mouth was a pipe, on the table a jar of bird's-eye; _item_, a
+tumbler of weak brandy and water to moisten his lips with
+occasionally. It was weak. Mr. Mules never took a drop more than was
+good for him.
+
+Before him were arranged in a circle his materials for composition. On
+his extreme left was what he termed his treacle-pot. That was a volume
+of unctuous piety. Then came his dish of flummery. That was a volume
+of ornate discourses by a crack ladies' preacher. Next his spice-box.
+That was a little store of anecdotes, illustrations, and pungent
+sayings. Pearson on the Creed, Bishop Andrews, or any work of solid
+divinity was not to be found either on his table or on his shelves. A
+Commentary was outspread, and a Concordance.
+
+The Reverend Desiderius Mules sipped his brandy and water, took a long
+whiff of his pipe, and then wrote his text. Then he turned to his
+Commentary and extracted from it junks of moralization upon his text
+and on other texts which his Concordance told him had more or less to
+do with his head text. Then he peppered his paper well over with
+quotations, those in six lines preferred to those in three.
+
+"Now," said the manufacturer of the sermon, "I must have a little
+treacle. I suppose those bumpkins will like it, but not much, I hate
+it myself. It is ridiculous. And I can dish up a trifle of flummery in
+here and there conveniently, and--let me see. I'll work up to a story
+near the tail somehow. But what heading shall I give my discourse?
+'Pon my word I don't know what its subject is--we'll call it General
+Piety. That will do admirably. Yes, General Piety. Come in! Who's
+there?"
+
+A servant entered and said that there were Mr. Menaida and the lady
+that was married that morning, at the door, wanting to speak with him.
+Should she show them into the study?
+
+Mr. Mules looked at his brandy and water, then at his array of
+material for composition, and then at his neckerchief on the floor,
+and said: "No, into the drawing-room." The maid was to light the
+candles. He would put on his collar and be with them shortly.
+
+So the sermon had to be laid aside.
+
+Presently Mr. Desiderius Mules entered his drawing-room, where Judith,
+Uncle Zachie, and Jamie were awaiting him.
+
+"A late visit, but always welcome," said the rector. "Sorry I kept
+you waiting, but I was _en deshabille_. What can I do for you now,
+eh?"
+
+Judith was composed, she had formed her resolution.
+
+She said, "You married me this morning when I was unconscious. I
+answered but one of your questions. Will you get your prayer-book and
+I will make my responses to all those questions you put to me when I
+was in a dead faint."
+
+"Oh, not necessary. Sign the register and it is all right. Silence
+gives consent, you know."
+
+"I wish it otherwise, particularly, and then you can judge for
+yourself whether silence gives consent."
+
+Mr. Desiderius Mules ran back into his study, pulled a whiff at his
+pipe to prevent the fire from going out, moistened his untempered clay
+with brandy and water, and came back again with a Book of Common
+Prayer.
+
+"Here we are," said he. "'Wilt thou have this man,' and so on--you
+answered to that, I believe. Then comes 'I, Judith, take thee, Curll,
+to my wedded husband'--you were indistinct over that, I believe."
+
+"I remember nothing about it. Now I will say distinctly my meaning. I
+will _not_ take Curll Coppinger to my wedded husband, and thereto I
+will never give my troth--so help me, God."
+
+"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed the rector. "You put me in a queer
+position. I married you, and you can't undo what is done. You have the
+ring on your finger."
+
+"No, here it is. I return it."
+
+"I refuse to take it. I have nothing whatever to do with the ring.
+Captain Coppinger put it on your hand."
+
+"When I was unconscious."
+
+"But am I to be choused out of my fee--as out of other things!"
+
+"You shall have your fee. Do not concern yourself about that. I refuse
+to consider myself married. I refuse to sign the register, no man
+shall force me to it, and if it comes to law, here are witnesses, you
+yourself are a witness, that I was unconscious when you married me."
+
+"I shall get into trouble! This is a very unpleasant state of
+affairs."
+
+"It is more unpleasant for me than for you," said Judith.
+
+"It is a most awkward complication. Never heard of such a case
+before. Don't you think that after a good night's rest and a good
+supper--and let me advise a stiff glass of something warm, taken
+medicinally, you understand--that you will come round to a better
+mind."
+
+"To another mind I shall not come round. I suppose I am half
+married--never by my will shall that half be made into a whole."
+
+"And what do you want me to do?" asked Mr. Mules, thoroughly put out
+of his self-possession by this extraordinary scene.
+
+"Nothing," answered Judith, "save to bear testimony that I utterly and
+entirely refuse to complete the marriage which was half done--by
+answering to those questions with a consent, which I failed to answer
+in church because I fainted, and to wear the ring which was forced on
+me when I was insensible, and to sign the register now I am in full
+possession of my wits. We will detain you no longer."
+
+Judith left along with Jamie and Mr. Menaida, and Mr. Mules returned
+to his sermon. He pulled at his pipe till the almost expired fire was
+rekindled into glow, and he mixed himself a little more brandy and
+water. Then with his pipe in the corner of his mouth he looked at his
+discourse. It did not quite please him, it was undigested.
+
+"Dear me!" said Mr. Desiderius. "My mind is all of a whirl, and I can
+do nothing to this now. It must go as it is--yet stay, I'll change the
+title. General Piety is rather pointless. I'll call it Practical
+Piety."
+
+Judith returned to Pentyre Glaze. She was satisfied with what she had
+done; anger and indignation were in her heart. The man to whom she had
+given her hand had enlisted her poor brother in the wicked work of
+luring unfortunate sailors to their destruction. She could hardly
+conceive of anything more diabolical than this form of wrecking: her
+Jamie was involved in the crime of drawing men to their death. A ship
+had been wrecked, she knew that by the minute guns, and if lives were
+lost from it, the guilt in a measure rested on the head of Jamie. But
+for her intervention he would have been taken in the act of showing
+light to mislead mariners, and would certainly have been brought
+before magistrates and most probably have been imprisoned. The
+thought that her brother, the son of such a father, should have
+escaped this disgrace through an accident only, and that he had been
+subjected to the risk by Coppinger, filled her veins with liquid fire.
+Thenceforth there could be nothing between her and Captain Cruel, save
+antipathy, resentment, and contempt on her part. His passion for her
+must cool or chase itself away. She would never yield to him a hair's
+breadth.
+
+Judith threw herself on her bed, in her clothes. She could not sleep.
+Wrath against Coppinger seethed in her young heart. Concerned she was
+for the wrecked, but concern for them was over-lapped by fiery
+indignation against the wrecker. There was also in her breast
+self-reproach. She had not accepted as final her father's judgment on
+the man. She had allowed Coppinger's admiration of herself to move her
+from a position of uncompromising hostility, and to awake in her
+suspicions that her dear, dear father might have been mistaken, and
+that the man he condemned might not be guilty as he supposed.
+
+As she lay tossing on her bed, turning from side to side, her face now
+flaming, then white, she heard a noise in the house. She sat up on her
+bed and listened. There was now no light in the room, and she would
+not go into that of her aunt to borrow one. Miss Trevisa might be
+asleep, and would be vexed to be disturbed. Moreover resentment
+against her aunt for having forced her into the marriage was strong in
+the girl's heart, and she had no wish to enter into any communications
+with her.
+
+So she sat on her bed, listening.
+
+There was certainly disturbance below. What was the meaning of it?
+
+Presently she heard her aunt's voice down-stairs. She was therefore
+not asleep in her room.
+
+Thereupon Judith descended the stairs to the hall. There she found
+Captain Coppinger being carried to his bedroom by two men, while Miss
+Trevisa held a light. He was streaming with water that made pools on
+the floor.
+
+"What is the matter? Is he hurt? Is he hurt seriously?" she asked, her
+woman's sympathy at once aroused by the sight of suffering.
+
+"He has had a bad fall," replied her aunt. "He went to a wreck that
+has been cast on Doom Bar, to help to save the unfortunate, and save
+what they value equally with their lives--their goods, and he was
+washed overboard. Fell into the sea, and was dashed against that boat.
+Yes--he is injured. No bones broken _this_ time. This time he had to
+do with the sea and with men. But he is badly bruised. Go on," she
+said to those who were conveying Coppinger. "He is in pain, do you not
+see this as you stand here? Lay him on his bed, and remove his
+clothes. He is drenched to the skin. I will brew him a posset."
+
+"May I help you, aunt?"
+
+"I can do it myself."
+
+Judith remained with Miss Trevisa. She said nothing to her till the
+posset was ready. Then she offered to carry it to her husband.
+
+"As you will--here it is," said Aunt Dionysia.
+
+Thereupon Judith took the draught, and went with it to Captain
+Coppinger's room. He was in his bed. No one was with him, but a candle
+burned on the table.
+
+"You have come to me, Judith?" he said with glad surprise.
+
+"Yes--I have brought you the posset. Drink it out to the last drop."
+
+She handed it to him; and he took the hot caudle.
+
+"I need not finish the bowl?" he asked.
+
+"Yes--to the last drop."
+
+He complied, and then suddenly withdrew the vessel from his lips.
+"What is this--at the bottom?--a ring?" He extracted a plain gold ring
+from the bowl.
+
+"What is the meaning of this? It is a wedding-ring."
+
+"Yes--mine."
+
+"It is early to lose it."
+
+"I threw it in."
+
+"You--Judith--why?"
+
+"I return it to you."
+
+He raised himself on one elbow and looked at her fixedly with
+threatening eyes.
+
+"What is the meaning of this?"
+
+"That ring was put on my finger when I was unconscious. Wait till I
+accept it freely."
+
+"But--Judith--the wedding is over."
+
+"Only a half wedding."
+
+"Well--well--it shall soon be a whole one. We will have the register
+signed to-morrow."
+
+Judith shook her head.
+
+"You are acting strangely to-night," said he.
+
+"Answer me," said Judith. "Did you not send out Jamie with a light to
+mislead the sailors, and draw them on to Doom Bar?"
+
+"Jamie, again!" exclaimed Coppinger, impatiently.
+
+"Yes, I have to consider for Jamie. Answer me, did you not send
+him----"
+
+He burst in angrily, "If you will--yes--he took the light to the
+shore. I knew there was a wreck. When a ship is in distress she must
+have a light."
+
+"You are not speaking the truth. Answer me, did you go on board the
+wrecked vessel to save those who were cast away?"
+
+"They would not have been saved without me. They had lost their
+heads--every one."
+
+"Captain Coppinger," said Judith, "I have lost all trust in you. I
+return you the ring which I will never wear. I have been to see the
+rector and told him that I refuse you, and I will never sign the
+register."
+
+"I will force the ring on to your finger," said Coppinger.
+
+"You are a man, stronger than I--but I can defend myself, as you know
+to your cost. Half married we are--and so must remain, and never,
+never shall we be more than that."
+
+Then she left the room, and Coppinger dashed his posset cup to the
+ground, but held the ring and turned it in his fingers, and the light
+flickered on it, a red gold ring like that red gold hair that was
+about his throat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+A CHANGE OF WIND.
+
+
+After many years of separation, father and son were together once
+more. Early in the morning after the wreck in Dover Bar, Oliver
+Menaida appeared at his father's cottage, bruised and wet through, but
+in health and with his purse in his hand.
+
+When he had gone overboard with the wrecker, the tide was falling and
+he had been left on the sands of the Bar, where he had spent a cold
+and miserable night, with only the satisfaction to warm him that his
+life and his money were his. He was not floating, like Wyvill, a
+headless trunk, nor was he without his pouch that contained his gold
+and valuable papers.
+
+Mr. Menaida was roused from sleep very early to admit Oliver. The
+young man had recognized where he was, as soon as sufficient light was
+in the sky, and he had been carried across the estuary of the Camel by
+one of the boats that was engaged in clearing the wreck, under the
+direction of the captain of the coast-guard. But three men had been
+arrested on the wrecked vessel, three of those who had boarded her for
+plunder, all the rest had effected their escape, and it was
+questionable whether these three could be brought to justice, as they
+protested they had come from shore as salvers. They had heard the
+signals of distress and had put off to do what they could for those
+who were in jeopardy. No law forbad men coming to the assistance of
+the wrecked. It could not be proved that they had laid their hands on
+and kept for their own use any of the goods of the passengers or any
+of the cargo of the vessel. It was true that from some of the women
+their purses had been exacted, but the men taken professed their
+innocence of having done this, and the man who had made the
+demand--there was but one--had disappeared. Unhappily he had not been
+secured.
+
+It was a question also whether proceedings could be taken relative to
+the exhibition of lights that had misguided the merchantman. The
+coast-guard had come on Mr. Menaida and Judith on the downs with a
+light, but he was conducting her to her new house, and there could be
+entertained against them no suspicion of having acted with evil
+intent.
+
+"Do you know, father," said Oliver, after he was rested, had slept and
+fed, "I am pretty sure that the scoundrel who attacked me was Captain
+Coppinger. I cannot swear. It is many years now since I heard his
+voice, and when I did hear it, it was but very occasionally. What made
+me suspect at the time that I was struggling with Captain Cruel was
+that he had my head back over the gunwale and called for an axe,
+swearing that he would treat me like Wyvill. That story was new when I
+left home, and folk said that Coppinger had killed the man."
+
+Mr. Menaida fidgeted.
+
+"That was the man who was at the head of the entire gang. He it was
+who issued the orders which the rest obeyed; and he, moreover, was the
+man who required the passengers to deliver up their purses and
+valuables before he allowed them to enter the boat."
+
+"Between ourselves," said Uncle Zachie, rubbing his chin and screwing
+up his mouth, "between you and me and the poker, I have no doubt about
+it, and I could bring his neck into the halter if I chose."
+
+"Then why do you not, father? The ruffian would not have scrupled to
+hack off my head had an axe been handy, or had I waited till he had
+got hold of one."
+
+Mr. Menaida shook his head.
+
+"There are a deal of things that belong to all things," he said. "I
+was on the down with my little pet and idol, Judith, and we had the
+lantern, and it was that lantern that proved fatal to your vessel."
+
+"What, father! We owe our wreck to you?"
+
+"No, and yet it must be suffered to be so supposed, I must allow many
+hard words to be rapped out against me, my want of consideration, my
+scatterbrainedness. I admit that I am not a Solomon, but I should not
+be such an ass, such a criminal, as on a night like the last to walk
+over the downs above the cliffs with a lantern. Nevertheless I cannot
+clear myself."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because of Judith."
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"I was escorting her home, to her husband's----"
+
+"Is she married?"
+
+"'Pon my word, I can't say; half and half----"
+
+"I do not understand you."
+
+"I will explain, later," said Mr. Menaida. "It's a perplexing
+question, and though I was brought up at the law, upon my word I can't
+say how the law would stand in the matter."
+
+"But how about the false lights?"
+
+"I am coming to that. When the Preventive men came on us, led by
+Scantlebray--and why he was with them, and what concern it was of his,
+I don't know--when the guard found us, it is true Judith had the
+lantern, but it was under her cloak."
+
+"We, however, saw the light for some time."
+
+"Yes, but neither she nor I showed it. We had not brought a light with
+us. We knew that it would be wrong to do so, but we came on someone
+driving an ass with a lantern affixed to the head of the brute."
+
+"Then say so."
+
+"I cannot--that person was Judith's brother."
+
+"But he is an idiot."
+
+"He was sent out with the light."
+
+"Well, then, that person who sent him will be punished and the silly
+boy will come off scot free."
+
+"I cannot--he who sent the boy was Judith's husband."
+
+"Judith's husband! Who is that?"
+
+"Captain Coppinger."
+
+"Well, what of that? The man is a double-dyed villain. He ought to be
+brought to justice. Consider the crimes of which he has been guilty.
+Consider what he has done this past night. I cannot see, father, that
+merely because you esteem a young person, who may be very estimable,
+we should let a consummate scoundrel go free, solely because he is her
+husband. He has brought a fine ship to wreck, he has produced much
+wretchedness and alarm. Indeed, he has been the occasion of some lives
+being lost, for one or two of the sailors, thinking we were going to
+Davy Jones's locker, got drunk and were carried overboard. Then,
+consider, he robbed some of the unhappy, frightened women as they were
+escaping. Bless me!" Oliver sprang up and paced the room. "It makes
+my blood seethe. The fellow deserves no consideration. Give him up to
+justice; let him be hung or transported."
+
+Mr. Menaida passed his hand through his hair, and lit his pipe.
+
+"'Pon my word," said he, "there's a good deal to be said on your
+side--and yet----"
+
+"There is everything to be said on my side," urged Oliver, with
+vehemence. "The man is engaged on his nefarious traffic. Winter is
+setting in. He will wreck other vessels as well, and if you spare him
+now, then the guilt of causing the destruction of other vessels and
+the loss of more lives will rest in a measure on you."
+
+"And yet," pleaded Menaida, senior, "I don't know--I don't like--you
+see----"
+
+"You are moved by a little sentiment for Miss Judith Trevisa, or--I
+beg her pardon--Mrs. Cruel Coppinger. But it is a mistake, father. If
+you had had this sentimental regard for her, and value for her, you
+should not have suffered her to marry such a scoundrel, past
+redemption."
+
+"I could not help it. I told her that the man was bad--that is to
+say--I believed he was a smuggler, and that he was generally credited
+with being a wrecker as well. But there were other influences--other
+forces at work--I could not help it."
+
+"The sooner we can rid her of this villain the better," persisted
+Oliver. "I cannot share your scruples, father."
+
+Then the door opened and Judith entered.
+
+Oliver stood up. He had reseated himself on the opposite side of the
+fire to his father, after the ebullition of wrath that had made him
+pace the room.
+
+He saw before him a delicate, girlish figure--a child in size and in
+innocence of face, but with a woman's force of character in the brow,
+clear eyes, and set mouth. She was ivory white; her golden hair was
+spread out about her face--blown by the wind, it was a veritable halo,
+such as is worn by an angel of La Fiesole in Cimabue. Her long,
+slender, white throat was bare; she had short sleeves, to the elbows,
+and bare arms. Her stockings were white, under the dark-blue gown.
+Oliver Menaida had spent a good many years in Portugal, and had seen
+flat faces, sallow complexions, and dark hair--women without delicacy
+of bone and grace of figure--and, on his return to England, the first
+woman he saw was Judith--this little, pale, red-gold-headed creature,
+with eyes iridescent and full of a soul that made them sparkle and
+change color with every change of emotion in the heart and of thought
+in the busy brain.
+
+Oliver was a fine man, tall, with a bright and honest face, fair hair,
+and blue eyes. He started back from his seat and looked at this
+child-bride who entered his father's cottage. He knew at once who she
+was, from the descriptions he had received of her from his father in
+letters from home.
+
+He did not understand how she had become the wife of Cruel Coppinger.
+He had not heard the story from his father, still less could he
+comprehend the enigmatical words of his father relative to her
+half-and-half marriage. As now he looked on this little figure, that
+breathed an atmosphere of perfect purity, of untouched innocence, and
+yet not mixed with that weakness which so often characterizes
+innocence--on the contrary blended with a strength and force beyond
+her years--Oliver's heart rose with a bound and smote against his
+ribs. He was overcome with a qualm of infinite pity for this poor,
+little, fragile being, whose life was linked with that of one so
+ruthless as Coppinger. Looking at that anxious face, at those lustrous
+eyes, set in lids that were reddened with weeping, he knew that the
+iron had entered into her soul, that she had suffered and was
+suffering then; nay, more, that the life opening before her would be
+one of almost unrelieved contrariety and sorrow.
+
+At once he understood his father's hesitation when he urged him to
+increase the load of shame and trouble that lay on her. He could not
+withdraw his eyes from Judith. She was to him a vision so wonderful,
+so strange, so thrilling, so full of appeal to his admiration and to
+his chivalry.
+
+"Here, Ju! here is my Oliver, of whom I have told you so much!" said
+Menaida, running up to Judith. "Oliver, boy! she has read your
+letters, and I believe they gave her almost as great pleasure as they
+did me. She was always interested in you. I mean ever since she came
+into my house, and we have talked together about you, and upon my
+word it really seemed as if you were to her as a brother."
+
+A faint smile came on Judith's face; she held out her hand and said:
+
+"Yes, I have come to love your dear father, who has been to me so
+kind, and to Jamie also; he has been full of thought--I mean kindness.
+What has interested him has interested me. I call him uncle, so I will
+call you cousin. May it be so?"
+
+He touched her hand; he did not dare to grasp the frail, slender white
+hand. But as he touched it, there boiled up in his heart a rage
+against Coppinger, that he--this man steeped in iniquity--should have
+obtained possession of a pearl set in ruddy gold--a pearl that he was,
+so thought Oliver, incapable of appreciating.
+
+"How came you here?" asked Judith. "Your father has been expecting you
+some time, but not so soon."
+
+"I am come off the wreck."
+
+She started back and looked fixedly on him.
+
+"What--you were wrecked?--in that ship last night?"
+
+"Yes. After the fog lifted we were quite lost as to where we were, and
+ran aground."
+
+"What led you astray?"
+
+"Our own bewilderment and ignorance as to where we were."
+
+"And you got ashore?"
+
+"Yes. I was put across by the Preventive men. I spent half the night
+on Doom Bar."
+
+"Were any lives lost?"
+
+"Only those lost their lives who threw them away. Some tipsy sailors,
+who got at the spirits, and drank themselves drunk."
+
+"And--did any others--I mean did any wreckers come to your ship?"
+
+"Salvors? Yes; salvors came to save what could be saved. That is
+always so."
+
+Judith drew a long breath of relief; but she could not forget Jamie
+and the ass.
+
+"You were not led astray by false lights?"
+
+"Any lights we might have seen were sure to lead us astray, as we did
+not in the least know where we were."
+
+"Thank you," said Judith. Then she turned to Uncle Zachie.
+
+"I have a favor to ask of you."
+
+"Anything you ask I will do."
+
+"It is to let Jamie live here, he is more likely to be well employed,
+less likely to get in wrong courses, than at the Glaze. Alas! I cannot
+be with him always and everywhere, and I cannot trust him there. Here
+he has his occupation; he can help you with the birds. There he has
+nothing, and the men he meets are not such as I desire that he should
+associate with. Besides, you know, uncle, what occurred last night,
+and why I am anxious to get him away."
+
+"Yes," answered the old man; "I'll do my best. He shall be welcome
+here."
+
+"Moreover, Captain Coppinger dislikes him. He might in a fit of anger
+maltreat him; I cannot say that he _would_, but he makes no
+concealment of his dislike."
+
+"Send Jamie here."
+
+"And then I can come every day and see him, how he is getting on, and
+can encourage him with his work, and give him his lessons as usual."
+
+"It will always be a delight to me to have you here."
+
+"And to me--to come." She might have said, "to be away from Pentyre,"
+but she refrained from saying that. With a faint smile--a smile that
+was but the twinkle of a tear--she held out her hand to say farewell.
+
+Uncle Zachie clasped it, and then, suddenly, she bent and kissed his
+hand.
+
+"You must not do that," said he, hastily.
+
+She looked piteously into his eyes, and said, in a whisper that he
+alone could hear--"I am so lonely."
+
+When she was gone the old man returned to the ingle nook and resumed
+his pipe. He did not speak, but every now and then he put one finger
+furtively to his cheek, wiped off something, and drew very vigorous
+whiffs of tobacco.
+
+Nor was Oliver inclined to speak; he gazed dreamily into the fire,
+with contracted brows, and hands that were clenched.
+
+A quarter of an hour thus passed. Then Oliver looked up at his father,
+and said: "There is worse wrecking than that of ships. Can nothing be
+done for this poor little craft, drifting in fog--aimless!--and going
+on to the rocks?"
+
+Uncle Zachie again wiped his cheek, and in his thoughtlessness wiped
+it with the bowl of his pipe and burnt himself. He shook his head.
+
+"Now tell me what you meant when you said she was but half married,"
+said Oliver.
+
+Then his father related to him the circumstances of Judith's forced
+engagement, and of the incomplete marriage of the day before.
+
+"By my soul!" exclaimed Oliver. "He must--he shall not treat her as he
+did our vessel."
+
+"Oh, Oliver! if I had had my way--I had designed her for you."
+
+"For me!"
+
+Oliver bent his head and looked hard into the fire, where strange
+forms of light were dancing--dancing and disappearing.
+
+Then Mr. Menaida said, between his whiffs: "Surely a change of wind,
+Oliver. A little while ago, and she was not to be considered; justice
+above all, and Judith sacrificed, if need be--now it is Judith above
+all."
+
+"Yes," musingly, "above all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+A FIRST LIE.
+
+
+As a faithful, as a loving wife almost, did Judith attend to Coppinger
+for the day or two before he was himself again. He had been bruised,
+that was all. The waves had driven him against the boat, and he had
+been struck by an oar; but the very fact that he was driven against
+the boat had proved his salvation, for he was drawn on board, and his
+own men carried him swiftly to the bank, and, finding him unable to
+walk, conveyed him home. On reaching home a worse blow than that of
+the oar had struck him, and struck him on the heart, and it was dealt
+him by his wife. She bade him put away from him for ever the
+expectation, the hope, of her becoming his in more than name.
+
+Pain and disappointment made him irritable. He broke out into angry
+complaint, and Judith had much to endure. She did not answer him. She
+had told him her purpose, and she would neither be bullied nor cajoled
+to alter it.
+
+Judith had much time to herself; she wandered through the rooms of
+Pentyre during the day without encountering anyone, and then strolled
+on the cliffs; wherever she went she carried her trouble with her,
+gnawing at her heart. There was no deliverance for her, and she did
+not turn her mind in that direction. She would remain what she
+was--Coppinger's half-wife, a wife without a wedding-ring, united to
+him by a most dubiously legal ceremony. She bore his name, she was
+content to do that; she must bear with his love turned to fury by
+disappointment. She would do that till it died away before her firm
+and unchangeable opposition.
+
+"What will be said," growled Coppinger, "when it is seen that you wear
+no ring?"
+
+"I will wear my mother's, and turn the stone within," answered Judith,
+"then it will be like our marriage, a semblance, nothing more."
+
+She did appear next day with a ring. When the hand was closed, it
+looked like a plain gold wedding hoop. When she opened and turned her
+hand, it was apparent that within was a small brilliant. A modest
+ring, a very inexpensive one, that her father had given to her mother
+as a guard. Modest and inexpensive because his purse could afford no
+better; not because he would not have given her the best diamonds
+available, had he possessed the means to purchase them.
+
+This ring had been removed from the dead finger of her mother, and Mr.
+Peter Trevisa had preserved it as a present for the daughter.
+
+Almost every day Judith went to Polzeath to give lessons to Jamie, and
+to see how the boy was going on. Jamie was happy with Mr. Menaida, he
+liked a little desultory work, and Oliver was kind to him, took him
+walks, and talked to him of scenes in Portugal.
+
+Very often, indeed, did Judith, when she arrived, find Oliver at his
+father's. He would sometimes sit through the lesson, often attend her
+back to the gate of Pentyre. His conduct toward her was deferential,
+tinged with pity. She could see in his eyes, read in his manner of
+address, that he knew her story, and grieved for her, and would do
+anything he could to release her from her place of torment, if he knew
+how. But he never spoke to her of Coppinger, never of her marriage,
+and the peculiar features that attended it. She often ventured on the
+topic of the wreck, and he saw that she was probing him to discover
+the truth concerning it, but he on no occasion allowed himself to say
+anything that could give her reason to believe her husband was the
+cause of the ship being lost, nor did he tell her of his own desperate
+conflict with the wrecker captain on board the vessel.
+
+He was a pleasant companion, cheerful and entertaining. Having been
+abroad, though not having travelled widely, he could tell much about
+Portugal, and something about Spain. Judith's eager mind was greedy
+after information, and it diverted her thoughts from painful topics to
+hear and talk about orange and lemon groves, the vineyards, the
+flower-gardens, the manners and customs of the people of Portugal, to
+see sketches of interesting places, and of the costumes of the
+peasantry. What drew her to Oliver specially was, however, his
+consideration for Jamie, to whom he was always kind, and whom he was
+disposed to amuse.
+
+The wreck of the merchantman on Doom Bar had caused a great commotion
+among the inhabitants of Cornwall. All the gentry, clergy, and the
+farmers and yeomen not immediately on the coast, felt that wrecking
+was not only a monstrous act of inhumanity, but was a scandal to the
+county, and ought to be peremptorily suppressed, and those guilty of
+it brought to justice. It was currently reported that the merchantman
+from Oporto was wilfully wrecked, and that an attempt had been made to
+rob and plunder the passengers and the vessel. But the evidence in
+support of this view was of little force. The only persons who had
+been found with a light on the cliffs were Mr. Menaida, whom every one
+respected for his integrity, and Judith, the daughter of the late
+rector of St. Enodoc, the most strenuous and uncompromising denouncer
+of wrecking. No one, however malicious, could believe either to be
+guilty of more than imprudence.
+
+The evidence as to the attempt of wreckers to invade the ship, and
+plunder it and the passengers also broke down. One lady alone could
+swear that her purse had been forcibly taken from her. The Portuguese
+men could hardly understand English, and though she asserted that she
+had been asked for money, she could not say that anything had been
+taken from her. It was quite possible that she had misunderstood an
+order given her to descend into the boat.
+
+The night had been dark, the lady who had been robbed could not swear
+to the identity of the man who had taken her purse, she could not even
+say that it was one of those who had come to the vessel, and was not
+one of the crew. The crew had behaved notoriously badly, some had been
+drunk, and it was possible that one of these fellows, flushed with
+spirits, had demanded and taken her money.
+
+There were two or three St. Enodoc men arrested because found on the
+ship at the time, but they persisted in the declaration that, hearing
+signals of distress, they had kindled a light and set it in the tower
+window of the church as a guide to the shipwrecked, and had gone to
+the vessel aground on Doom Bar, with the intention of offering every
+assistance in their power to the castaways. They asserted that they
+had found the deck in confusion. The seamen drunk and lost to
+discipline, the passengers helpless and frightened, and that it was
+only owing to them that some sort of order was brought about, or
+attempted. The arrival of the coast-guard interfered with their
+efforts to be useful.
+
+The magistrates were constrained to dismiss the case, although
+possessed with the moral conviction that the matter was not as the
+accused represented. The only person who could have given evidence
+that might have consigned them to prison was Oliver, and he was not
+called upon to give witness.
+
+But, although the case had broken down completely, an uneasy and angry
+feeling prevailed. People were not convinced that the wreck was
+accidental, and they believed that but for the arrival of the guard,
+the passengers would have been robbed and the ship looted. It was true
+enough that a light had been exhibited from St. Enodoc tower, but that
+served as a guide to those who rushed upon the wreck, and was every
+whit as much to their advantage as to that of the shipwrecked men.
+For, suppose that the crew and passengers had got off in their boats,
+they would have made, naturally, for the light, and who could say but
+that a gang of ruffians was not waiting on the shore to plunder them
+as they landed.
+
+The general feeling in the county was one of vexation that more prompt
+action had not been taken, or that the action taken had not been more
+successful. No man showed this feeling more fully than Mr.
+Scantlebray, who hunted with the coast-guard for his own ends, and who
+had felt sanguine that in this case Coppinger would be caught.
+
+That Coppinger was at the bottom of the attempt, which had been partly
+successful, few doubted, and yet there was not a shadow of proof
+against him. But that, according to common opinion, only showed how
+deep was his craft.
+
+The state of Judith's mind was also one of unrest. She had a
+conviction seated in her heart that all was not right, and yet she had
+no sound cause for charging her husband with being a deliberate
+wrecker. Jamie had gone out with his ass and the lantern, that was
+true, but was Jamie's account of the affair to be relied on? When
+questioned he became confused. He never could be trusted to recall,
+twenty-four hours after an event, the particulars exactly as they
+occurred. Any suggestive queries drew him aside, and without an intent
+to deceive he would tell what was a lie, simply because he could not
+distinguish between realities and fleeting impressions. She knew that
+if she asked him whether Coppinger had fastened the lantern to the
+head of his donkey, and had bidden him drive the creature slowly up
+and down the inequalities of the surface of the cliffs, he would
+assent, and say it was so; but, then, if she were to say to him, "Now,
+Jamie, did not Captain Coppinger tell you on no account to show the
+light till you reached the shore at St. Enodoc, and then to fix it
+steadily," that his face would for a moment assume a vacant, then a
+distressed expression, and he would finally say that he believed it
+really was so. No reliance was to be placed on anything he said,
+except at the moment, and not always then. He was liable to
+misunderstand directions, and by a stupid perversity to act exactly
+contrary to the instructions given him.
+
+Judith heard nothing of the surmises that floated in the neighborhood,
+but she knew enough to be uneasy. She had been somewhat reassured by
+Oliver Menaida; she could see no reason why he should withhold the
+truth from her. Was it, then, possible after all that Captain
+Coppinger had gone to the rescue of the wrecked people, that he had
+sent the light not to mislead, but to direct them aright?
+
+It was Judith's fate--so it seemed--to be never certain whether to
+think the worst of Coppinger, or to hold that he had been misjudged by
+her. He had been badly hurt in his attempt to rescue the crew and
+passengers--according to Aunt Dionysia's account. If she were to
+believe this story, then he was deserving of respect.
+
+Judith began to recover some of her cheerfulness, some of her
+freshness of looks. This was due to the abatement of her fears.
+Coppinger had angrily, sullenly, accepted the relation which she had
+assured him must subsist between them, and which could never be
+altered.
+
+Aunt Dionysia was peevish and morose indeed. She had been disappointed
+in her hope of getting into Othello Cottage before Christmas; but she
+had apparently received a caution from Coppinger not to exhibit
+ill-will toward his wife by word or token, and she restrained
+herself, though with manifest effort. That sufficed Judith. She no
+longer looked for, cared for love from her aunt. It satisfied her if
+Miss Trevisa left her unmolested.
+
+Moreover, Judith enjoyed the walk to Polzeath every day, and, somehow,
+the lessons to Jamie gave her an interest that she had never found in
+them before. Oliver was so helpful. When Jamie was stubborn, he
+persuaded him with a joke or a promise to laugh and put aside his
+ill-humor, and attack the task once more. The little gossiping talk
+after the lesson with Oliver, or with Oliver and his father, was a
+delight to her. She looked forward to it, from day to day, naturally,
+reasonably, for at the Glaze she had no one with whom to converse, no
+one with the same general interests as herself, the same knowledge of
+books, and pleasure in the acquisition of information.
+
+On mountain sides there are floral zones. The rhododendron and the
+gentian luxuriate at a certain level, above is the zone of the blue
+hippatica, the soldanella, and white crocus; below is the belt of
+mealy primula and lilac clematis. So is it in the world of minds--they
+have their levels, and can only live on those levels. Transplant them
+to a higher or to a lower zone and they suffer, and die.
+
+Judith found no one at Pentyre with whom she could associate with
+pleasure. It was only when she was at Polzeath with Uncle Zachie and
+Oliver that she could talk freely and feel in her element.
+
+One day Oliver said to her, "Judith"--for, on the understanding that
+they were cousins, they called each other by their Christian
+names--"Judith! are you going to the ball at Wadebridge after
+Christmas?"
+
+"Ball, Oliver, what ball?"
+
+"That which Mr. Mules is giving for the restoration of his church."
+
+"I do not know. I--yes, I have heard of it; but I had clean forgotten
+all about it. I had rather not."
+
+"But you must, and promise me three dances, at least."
+
+"I do not know what to say. Captain Coppinger"--she never spoke of her
+husband by his Christian name, never thought of him as other than
+Captain Coppinger. Did she think of Oliver as Mr. Menaida, junior?
+"Captain Coppinger has not said anything to me about it of late. I do
+not wish to go. My dear father's death----"
+
+"But the dance is after Christmas. And, you know, it is for a sacred
+purpose. Think, every whirl you take puts a new stone on the
+foundations, and every setting to your partner in quadrille adds a
+pane of glass to the battered windows."
+
+"I do not know," again said Judith, and became grave. Her heart
+fluttered. She would like to be at the ball--and dance three dances
+with Oliver--but would Captain Coppinger suffer her? Would he expect
+to dance with her all the evening? If that were so, she would not like
+to go. "I really do not know," again she said, clasped her hands on
+her knees, and sighed.
+
+"Why that sigh, Judith?"
+
+She looked up, dropped her eyes in confusion, and said faintly, "I do
+not know," and that was her first lie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+THE DIAMOND BUTTERFLY.
+
+
+Poor little fool! Shrewd in maintaining her conflict with Cruel
+Coppinger--always on the defensive, ever on guard, she was sliding
+unconsciously, without the smallest suspicion of danger, into a state
+that must eventually make her position more desperate and intolerable.
+In her inexperience she had never supposed that her own heart could be
+a traitor within the city walls. She took pleasure in the society of
+Oliver, and thought no wrong in so doing. She liked him, and would
+have reproached herself had she not done so.
+
+Her relations with Coppinger remained strained. He was a good deal
+from home; indeed, he went on a cruise in his vessel, the Black
+Prince, and was absent for a month. He hoped that in his absence she
+might come to a better mind. They met, when he was at home, at meals;
+at other times not at all. He went his way, she went hers. Whether the
+agitation of men's minds relative to the loss of the merchantman, and
+the rumors concerning the manner of its loss, had made Captain Cruel
+think it were well for him to absent himself for a while, till they
+had blown away, or whether he thought that his business required his
+attention elsewhere, or that by being away from home his wife might be
+the readier to welcome him, and come out of her vantage castle, and
+lay down her arms, cannot be said for certain; probably all these
+motives combined to induce him to leave Pentyre for five or six weeks.
+
+While he was away Judith was lighter in heart. He returned shortly
+before Christmas, and was glad to see her more like her old self, with
+cheeks rounder, less livid, eyes less sunken, less like those of a
+hunted beast, and with a step that had resumed its elasticity. But he
+did not find her more disposed to receive him with affection as a
+husband. He thought that probably some change in the monotony of life
+at Pentyre might be of advantage, and he somewhat eagerly entered into
+the scheme for the ball at Wadebridge. She had been kept to books and
+to the society of her father too much, in days gone by, and had become
+whimsical and prudish. She must learn some of the enjoyments of life,
+and then she would cling to the man who opened to her a new sphere of
+happiness.
+
+"Judith," said he, "we will certainly go to this ball. It will be a
+pleasant one. As it is for a charitable purpose, all the neighborhood
+will be there. Squire Humphrey Prideaux of Prideaux Place, the
+Matthews of Roscarrock, the Molesworths of Pencarrow, and every one
+worth knowing in the country round for twelve miles. But you will be
+the queen of the ball."
+
+Judith at first thought of appearing at the dance in her simplest
+evening dress; she was shy and did not desire to attract attention.
+Her own position was anomalous, because that of Coppinger was
+anomalous. He passed as a gentleman in a part of the country not very
+exacting that the highest culture should prevail in the upper region
+of society. He had means, and he owned a small estate. But no one knew
+whence he came, or what was the real source whence he derived his
+income. Suspicion attached to him as engaged in both smuggling and
+wrecking, neither of which were regarded as professions consonant with
+gentility. The result of this uncertainty relative to Coppinger was
+that he was not received into the best society. The gentlemen knew him
+and greeted him in the hunting-field, and would dine with him at his
+house. The ladies, of course, had never been invited, because he was
+an unmarried man. The gentlemen probably had dealings with him about
+which they said nothing to their wives. It is certain that the Bodmin
+wine-merchant grumbled that the great houses of the north of Cornwall
+did not patronize him as they ought, and that no wine-merchant was
+ever able to pick up a subsistence at Wadebridge. Yet the country
+gentry were by no means given to temperance, and their cellars were
+being continually refilled.
+
+It was not their interest to be on bad terms with Coppinger, one must
+conjecture, for they went somewhat out of their way to be civil to
+him.
+
+Coppinger knew this, and thought that now he was married an
+opportunity had come in this charity ball for the introduction of
+Judith to society, and that to the best society, and he trusted to her
+merits and beauty, and to his own influence with the gentlemen, to
+obtain for her admission to the houses of the neighborhood. As the
+daughter of the Rev. Peter Trevisa, who had been universally
+respected, not only as a gentleman and a scholar, but also as a
+representative of an ancient Cornish family of untold antiquity, she
+had a perfect right to be received into the highest society of
+Cornwall, but her father had been a reserved and poor man. He did not
+himself care for associating with fox-hunting and sporting squires,
+nor would he accept invitations when he was unable to return them.
+Consequently Judith had gone about very little when at St. Enodoc
+rectory. Moreover, she had been but a child, and was known only by
+name to those who lived in the neighborhood. She was personally
+acquainted with none of the county people.
+
+Captain Cruel had small doubt but that, the ice once broken, Judith
+would make friends, and would be warmly received. The neighborhood was
+scantily peppered over with county family-seats, and the families
+found the winters tedious, and were glad of any accession to their
+acquaintance, and of another house opened to them for entertainment.
+
+If Judith were received well, and found distraction from her morbid
+and fantastic thoughts, then she would be grateful to him--so thought
+Coppinger--grateful for having brought her into a more cheerful and
+bright condition of life than that in which she had been reared.
+Following thereon, her aversion for him, or shyness toward him, would
+give way.
+
+And Judith--what were her thoughts? Her mind was a little fluttered,
+she had to consider what to wear. At first she would go simply clad,
+then her aunt insisted that, as a bride, she must appear in suitable
+garb, that in which she had been married, not that with the two
+sleeves for one side, which had been laid by. Then the question of the
+jewellery arose. Judith did not wish to wear it, but yielded to her
+aunt's advice. Miss Trevisa represented to her that, having the
+diamonds, she ought to wear them, and that not to wear them would hurt
+and offend Captain Coppinger, who had given them to her. This she was
+reluctant to do. However, she consented to oblige and humor him in
+such a small matter.
+
+The night arrived, and Judith was dressed for the ball. Never before
+had Coppinger seen her in evening costume, and his face beamed with
+pride as he looked on her in her white silk dress, with ornaments of
+white satiny bugles in sprigs edging throat and sleeves, and forming a
+rich belt about the waist. She wore the diamond butterfly in her
+bosom, and the two earrings to match. A little color was in her
+delicately pure cheeks, brought there by excitement. She had never
+been at a ball before, and with an innocent, childish simplicity she
+wondered what Oliver Menaida would think of her in her ball-dress.
+
+Judith and Coppinger arrived somewhat late, and most of those who had
+taken tickets were already there. Sir William and Lady Molesworth were
+there, and the half-brother of Sir William, John Molesworth, rector of
+St. Breock, and his wife, the daughter of Sir John S. Aubyn. With the
+baronet and his lady had come a friend, staying with them at
+Pencarrow, and Lady Knighton, wife of an Indian judge. The Matthews
+were there; the Tremaynes came all the way from Heligan, as owning
+property in St. Enodoc, and so, in duty bound to support the charity;
+the Prideauxs were there from Place; and many, if not all, of the
+gentry of various degrees who resided within twelve to fifteen miles
+of Wadebridge were also there.
+
+The room was not one of any interest, it was long, had a good floor,
+which is the main thing considered by dancers, a gallery at one end
+for the instrumentalists, and a draught which circulated round the
+walls, and cut the throats of the old ladies who acted as wall-fruit.
+There was, however, a room to which they could adjourn to play cards.
+And many of the dowagers and old maids had brought with them little
+silver linked purses in which was as much money as they had made up
+their minds to lose that evening.
+
+The dowager Lady Molesworth in a red turban was talking to Lady
+Knighton, a lady who had been pretty, but whose complexion had been
+spoiled by Indian suns, and to her Sir William was offering a cup of
+tea.
+
+"You see," said Lady Knighton, "how tremulous my hand is. I have been
+like this for some years--indeed ever since I was in this neighborhood
+before."
+
+"I did not know you had honored us with a visit on a previous
+occasion," said Sir William.
+
+"It was very different from the present, I can assure you," answered
+the lady. "Now it is voluntarily--then it was much the contrary. Now I
+have come among very dear and kind friends, then--I fell among
+thieves."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"It was on my return from India," said Lady Knighton. "Look at my
+hand!" She held forth her arm, and showed how it shook as with palsy.
+"This hand was firm then. I even played several games of spellikins on
+board ship on the voyage home, and, Sir William, I won invariably, so
+steady was my hold of the crook, so evenly did I raise each of the
+little sticks. But ever since then I have had this nervous tremor that
+makes me dread holding anything."
+
+"But how came it about?" asked the baronet.
+
+"I will tell you, but--who is that just entered the room?" she pointed
+with trembling finger.
+
+Judith had come in along with Captain Coppinger, and stood near the
+door, the light of the wax candles twinkling in her bugles, glancing
+in flashes from her radiant hair. She was looking about her, and her
+bosom heaved, she sought Oliver, and he was near at hand. A flush of
+pleasure sprang into her cheeks as she caught his eye, and held out
+her hand.
+
+"I demand my dance!" said he.
+
+"No, not the first, Oliver," she answered.
+
+Coppinger's brows knit.
+
+"Who is this?" he asked.
+
+"Oh! do you not know? Mr. Menaida's son, Mr. Oliver."
+
+The two men's eyes met, their irises contracted.
+
+"I think we have met before," said Oliver.
+
+"That is possible," answered Captain Cruel, contemptuously, looking in
+another direction.
+
+"When we met I knew you without your knowing me," pursued the young
+man, in a voice that shook with anger. He had recognized the tone of
+the voice that had spoken on the wreck.
+
+"Of that I, neither, have any doubt as to its possibility. I do not
+recollect every Jack I encounter."
+
+A moment after an idea struck him, and he turned his head sharply,
+fixed his eyes on young Menaida, and said, "Where did we meet?"
+
+"'Encounter' was your word."
+
+"Very well--encounter!"
+
+"On Doom Bar."
+
+Coppinger's color changed. A sinister flicker came into his sombre
+eyes.
+
+"Then," said he slowly, in low vibrating tones, "we shall meet again."
+
+"Certainly, we shall meet again, and conclude our--I use your
+term--'encounter.'"
+
+Judith did not hear the conversation. She had been pounced upon by Mr.
+Desiderius Mules.
+
+"Now--positively I must walk through a quadrille with you," said the
+rector. "This is all my affair; it all springs from me, I arranged
+everything. I beat up patrons and patronesses. I stirred up the
+neighborhood. It all turns as a wheel about me as the axle. Come
+along, the band is beginning to play. You shall positively walk
+through a quadrille with me." Mr. Mules was not the man to be put on
+one side, not one to accept a refusal; he carried off the bride to the
+head of the room and set her in one square.
+
+"Look at the decorations," said Mr. Mules, "I designed them. I hope
+you will like the supper. I drew up the _menu_. I chose the wines, and
+I know they are good. The candles I got at wholesale price--because
+for a charity. What beautiful diamonds you are wearing. They are not
+paste, I suppose?"
+
+"I believe not."
+
+"Yet good old paste is just as iridescent as real diamonds. Where did
+you get them? Are they family jewels? I have heard that the Trevisas
+were great people at one time. Well, so were the Mules. We are really
+De Moels. We came in with the Conqueror. That is why I have such a
+remarkable Christian name. Desiderius is the French Desire, and a
+Norman Christian name. Look at the wreaths of laurel and holly. How do
+you like them?"
+
+"The decorations are charming."
+
+"I am so pleased that you have come," pursued Mr. Mules. "It is your
+first appearance in public as Mrs. Captain Coppinger. I have been
+horribly uncomfortable about--you remember what. I have been afraid I
+had put my foot into it, and might get into hot water. But now you
+have come here, it is all right; it shows me that you are coming
+round to a sensible view, and that to-morrow you will be at the
+rectory and sign the register. If inconvenient, I will run up with it
+under my arm to the Glaze. At what time am I likely to catch you both
+in? The witnesses, Miss Trevisa and Mr. Menaida, one can always get
+at. Perhaps you will speak to your aunt and see that she is on the
+spot, and I'll take the old fellow on my way home."
+
+"Mr. Mules, we will not talk of that now."
+
+"Come! you must see, and be introduced to, Lady Molesworth."
+
+In the meanwhile Lady Knighton was telling her story to a party round
+her.
+
+"I was returning with my two children from India; it is now some years
+ago. It is so sad, in the case of Indians, either the parents must
+part from their children, or the mother must take her children to
+England and be parted from her husband. I brought my little ones back
+to be with my husband's sister, who kindly undertook to see to them.
+We encountered a terrible gale as we approached this coast; do you
+recollect the loss of the Andromeda?"
+
+"Perfectly," answered Sir William Molesworth; "were you in that?"
+
+"Yes, to my cost. One of my darlings so suffered from the exposure
+that she died. But, really, I do not think it was the wreck of the
+vessel which was worst. It was not that, not that alone, which brought
+this nervous tremor on me."
+
+"I remember that case," said Sir William. "It was a very bad one, and
+disgraceful to our county. We have recently had an ugly story of a
+wreck on Doom Bar, with suspicion of evil practices; but nothing could
+be proved, nothing brought home to anyone. In the case of the
+Andromeda there was something of the same sort."
+
+"Yes, indeed, there were evil practices. I was robbed."
+
+"You! surely, Lady Knighton, it was not of you that the story was
+told?"
+
+"If you mean the story of the diamonds, it was," answered the Indian
+lady. "We had to leave the wreck, and carry all our portable valuables
+with us. I had a set of jewellery of Indian work, given me by Sir
+James--well, he was only plain Mr. Knighton then. It was rather
+quaint in design: there was a brooch representing a butterfly, and two
+emeralds formed the----"
+
+"Excuse me one moment, Lady Knighton," said Sir William. "Here comes
+the new rector of St. Enodoc, with the bride, to introduce her to my
+wife. I am ashamed to say we have not made her acquaintance before."
+
+"Bride! what--his bride?"
+
+"Oh, no; the bride of a certain Captain Coppinger, who lives near
+here."
+
+"She is pretty, very pretty; but how delicate!"
+
+Suddenly Lady Knighton sprang to her feet, with an exclamation so
+shrill and startling that the dancers ceased, and the conductor of the
+band, thinking an accident had occurred, with his baton stopped the
+music. All attention was drawn to Lady Knighton, who, erect, trembling
+from head to foot, stood pointing with shaking finger to Judith.
+
+"See! see! My jewels, that were torn from me! Look!" She lifted the
+hair, worn low over her cheeks, and displayed one ear; the lobe was
+torn away.
+
+No one stirred in the ball-room; no one spoke. The fiddler stood with
+bow suspended over the strings, the flutist with fingers on all stops.
+Every eye was fixed on Judith. It was still in that room as though a
+ghost had passed through in winding-sheet. In this hush, Lady Knighton
+approached Judith, pointing still with trembling hand.
+
+"I demand, whence comes that brooch? Where--from whom did you get
+those earrings? They are mine; given me in India by my husband. They
+are Indian work, and not to be mistaken. They were plucked from me one
+awful night of wreck by a monster in human form, who came to our
+vessel, as we sought to leave it, and robbed us of our treasures.
+Answer me--who gave you those jewels?"
+
+Judith was speechless. The lights in the room died to feeble stars.
+The floor rolled like a sea under her feet; the ceiling was coming
+down on her.
+
+She heard whispers, murmurs--a humming as of a swarm of bees
+approaching ready to settle on her and sting her. She looked round
+her. Every one had withdrawn from her. Mr. Desiderius Mules had
+released her arm, and stood back. She tried to speak, but could not.
+Should she make the confession which would incriminate her husband?
+
+Then she heard a man's deep voice, heard a step on the floor. In a
+moment an arm was round her, sustaining her, as she tottered.
+
+"I gave her the jewels. I, Curll Coppinger, of Pentyre. If you ask
+where I got them--I will tell you. I bought them of Willy Mann, the
+pedlar. I will give you any further information you require to-morrow.
+Make room; my wife is frightened."
+
+Then, holding her, looking haughtily, threateningly, from side to
+side, Coppinger helped Judith along--the whole length of the
+ball-room--between rows of astonished, open-eyed, mute dancers. Near
+the door was a knot of gentlemen. They sprang apart, and Coppinger
+conveyed Judith through the door, out of the light, down the stairs,
+into the open air.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+A DEAD-LOCK.
+
+
+The incident of the jewellery of Lady Knighton occasioned much talk.
+On the evening of the ball it occupied the whole conversation, as the
+sole topic on which tongues could run and brains work. I say tongues
+run and brains work and not brains work and tongues run, for the
+former is the natural order in chatter. It was a subject that was
+thrashed by a hundred tongues of the dancers. Then it was turned over
+and rethrashed. Then it was winnowed. The chaff of the tale was blown
+into the kitchens and servants' halls, it drifted into tap-rooms,
+where the coachmen and grooms congregated and drank; and there it was
+rethrashed and rewinnowed.
+
+On the day following the ball, the jewels were returned to Lady
+Knighton, with a courteous letter from Captain Coppinger, to say that
+he had obtained them through the well-known Willy Mann, a pedlar who
+did commissions for the neighborhood, who travelled from Exeter along
+the south coast of Devon and Cornwall, and returned along the north
+coast of both counties.
+
+Everyone had made use of this fellow to do commissions, and
+trustworthy he had always proved. That was not a time when there was a
+parcels' post, and few could afford the time and the money to run at
+every requirement to the great cities, where were important shops when
+they required what could not be obtained in small country towns. He
+had been employed to match silks, to choose carpets, to bring
+medicines, to select jewellery, to convey love-letters.
+
+But Willy Mann had, unfortunately, died a month ago, having fallen off
+a wagon and broken his neck.
+
+Consequently it was not possible to follow up any further the traces
+of the diamond butterflies. Willy Mann, as was well known, had been a
+vehicle for conveying sundry valuables from ladies who had lost money
+at cards, and wanted to recoup by parting with bracelets and
+brooches. That he may have received stolen goods and valuables
+obtained from wrecks was also probable.
+
+So, after all the thrashing and winnowing, folks were no wiser than
+before, and no nearer the solution of the mystery. Some thought that
+Coppinger was guilty, others thought not, and others maintained a
+neutral position. Some again thought one thing one day and the
+opposite the next, and some always agreed with the last speaker's
+views. Whereas others again always took a contrary opinion to those
+who discussed the matter with them.
+
+Moreover, the matter went through a course much like a fever. It
+blazed out, was furious, then died away; languor ensued--and it gave
+symptoms of disappearing.
+
+The general mistrust against Coppinger was deepened, certainly, and
+the men who had wine and spirits and tobacco through him, resolved to
+have wine and spirits and tobacco from him, but nothing more. They
+would deal with him as a trader, and not acknowledge him as their
+social fellow. The ladies pitied Judith, they professed their respect
+for her; but as beds are made so must they be lain on, and as is
+cooked so must be eaten. She had married a man whom all mistrusted,
+and must suffer accordingly; one who is associated with an infected
+patient is certain to be shunned as much as the patient. Such is the
+way of the world, and we cannot alter it, as the making of that way
+has not been intrusted to us. On the day following the ball, Judith
+did not appear at Polzeath, nor again on the day after that.
+
+Oliver became restless. The cheerful humor, the merry mood that his
+father had professed were his, had deserted him. He could not endure
+the thought that one so innocent, so child-like as Judith, should have
+her fortunes linked to those of a man of whom he knew the worst. He
+could not, indeed, swear to his identity with the man on the wreck who
+had attempted to rob the passengers, and who had fought with him. He
+had no doubt whatever in his own mind that his adversary and assailant
+had been Coppinger, but he was led to this identification by nothing
+more tangible than the allusion made to Wyvill's death, and a certain
+tone of voice which he believed he recognized. The evidence was
+insufficient to convict him, of that Oliver was well aware. He was
+confident, moreover, that Coppinger was the man who had taken the
+jewels from Lady Knighton; but here again he was wholly unsupported by
+any sound basis of fact on which his conviction could maintain itself.
+
+Toward Coppinger he felt an implacable anger, and a keen desire for
+revenge. He would like to punish him for that assault on the wreck,
+but chiefly for the wrongs done to Judith. She had no champion, no
+protector. His father, as he acknowledged to himself, was a broken
+reed for one to lean on, a man of good intentions, but of a confused
+mind, of weakness of purpose, and lack of energy. The situation of
+Judith was a pitiful one, and if she was to be rescued from it, he
+must rescue her. But when he came to consider the way and means, he
+found himself beset with difficulties. She was married after a
+fashion. It was very questionable whether the marriage was legal, but,
+nevertheless, it was known through the county that a marriage had
+taken place, Judith had gone to Coppinger's house, and had appeared at
+the ball as his wife. If he established before the world that the
+marriage was invalid, what would she do? How would the world regard
+her? Was it possible for him to bring Coppinger to justice?
+
+Oliver went about instituting inquiries. He endeavored to trace to
+their source, the rumors that circulated relative to Coppinger, but
+always without finding anything on which he could lay hold. It was
+made plain to him that Captain Cruel was but the head of a great
+association of men, all involved in illegal practices; men engaged in
+smuggling, and ready to make their profit of a wreck, when a wreck
+fell in their way. They hung together like bees. Touch one, and the
+whole hive swarmed out. They screened one another, were ready to give
+testimony before magistrates that would exculpate whoever of the gang
+was accused. They evaded every attempt of the coast-guard to catch
+them; they laughed at the constables and magistrates. Information was
+passed from one to another with incredible rapidity; they had their
+spies and their agents along the coast. The magistrates and country
+gentry, though strongly reprobating wrecking, and bitterly opposed to
+poaching, were of broad and generous views regarding smuggling, and
+the preventive officer complained that he did not receive that
+support from the squirearchy which he expected and had a right to
+demand.
+
+There were caves along the whole coast, from Land's End to Hartland,
+and there were, unquestionably, stores of smuggled goods in a vast
+number of places, centres whence they were distributed. When a vessel
+engaged in the contraband trade appeared off the coast, and the guard
+were on the alert in one place, she ran a few miles up or down,
+signalled to shore, and landed her cargo before the coast-guard knew
+where she was. They were being constantly deceived by false
+information, and led away in one direction while the contraband goods
+were being conveyed ashore in an opposite quarter.
+
+Oliver learned much concerning this during the ensuing few days. He
+made acquaintance with the officer in command of the nearest station,
+and resolved to keep a close watch on Coppinger, and to do his utmost
+to effect his arrest. When Captain Cruel was got out of the way, then
+something could be done for Judith. An opportunity came in Oliver's
+way of learning tidings of importance, and that when he least expected
+it. As already said, he was wont to go about on the cliffs with Jamie,
+and after Judith ceased to appear at Mr. Menaida's cottage, in his
+unrest he took Jamie much with him, out of consideration for Judith,
+who, as he was well aware, would be content to have her brother with
+him, and kept thereby out of mischief.
+
+On one of these occasions he found the boy lag behind, become uneasy,
+and at last refuse to go farther. He inquired the reason, and Jamie,
+in evident alarm, replied that he dare not--he had been forbidden.
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"He said he would throw me over, as he did my doggie, if I came here
+again."
+
+"Who did?"
+
+"Captain Coppinger."
+
+"But why?"
+
+Jamie was frightened, and looked round.
+
+"I mustn't say," he answered, in a whisper.
+
+"Must not say what, Jamie?"
+
+"I was to let no one know about it."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"I am afraid to say. He would throw me over. I found it out and
+showed it to Ju. I have never been down there since."
+
+"Captain Coppinger found you somewhere, and forbade your ever going to
+that place again?"
+
+"Yes," in a faltering voice.
+
+"And threatened to fling you over the cliffs if you did!"
+
+"Yes," again timidly.
+
+Oliver said quietly, "Now run home and leave me here."
+
+"I daren't go by myself. I did not mean to come here."
+
+"Very well. No one has seen you. Let me see, this wall marks the spot.
+I will go back with you."
+
+Oliver was unusually silent as he walked to Polzeath with Jamie. He
+was unwilling further to press the boy. He would probably confuse him,
+by throwing him into a paroxysm of alarm. He had gained sufficient
+information for his purpose from the few words he let drop. "I have
+never been down there since," Jamie had said. There was, then,
+something that Coppinger desired should not be generally known
+concealed between the point on the cliff where the "new-take" wall
+ended and the beach immediately beneath.
+
+He took Jamie to his father, and got the old man to give him some
+setting up of birds to amuse and occupy him, and then returned to the
+cliff. It did not take him long to discover the entrance to the cave
+beneath, behind the curtain of slate reef, and as he penetrated this
+to the farthest point, he was placed in possession of one of the
+secrets of Coppinger and his band.
+
+He did not tarry there, but returned home another way, musing over
+what he had learned, and considering what advantage he was to take of
+it. A very little thought satisfied him that his wisest course was to
+say nothing about what he had learned, and to await the turns of
+fortune, and the incautiousness of the smugglers.
+
+From this time, moreover, he discontinued his visits to the
+coast-guard station, which was on the farther side of the estuary of
+the Camel, and which could not well be crossed without attracting
+attention. There was no trusting anyone, Oliver felt--the boatman who
+put him across was very possibly in league with the smugglers, and was
+a spy on those who were in communication with the officers of the
+revenue.
+
+Another reason for his cessation of visits was that, on his return to
+his father's house, after having explored the cave, and the track in
+the face of the cliff leading to it, he heard that Jamie had been
+taken away by Coppinger. The Captain had been there during his
+absence, and had told Mr. Menaida that Judith was distressed at being
+separated from her brother, and that, as there were reasons which made
+him desire that she should forego her walks to Polzeath, he, Captain
+Coppinger, deemed it advisable to bring Jamie back to Pentyre.
+
+Oliver asked himself, when he heard this, with some unease, whether
+this was due to his having been observed with the boy on the downs
+near the place from which access to the cave was had. Also, whether
+the boy would be frightened at the appearance of Captain Cruel so soon
+after he had approached the forbidden spot, and, in his fear, reveal
+that he had been there with Oliver and had partially betrayed the
+secret.
+
+There was another question he was also constrained to ask himself, and
+it was one that made the color flash into his cheek. What was the
+particular reason why Captain Coppinger objected to the visits of his
+wife to Polzeath at that time? Was he jealous? He recalled the flare
+in his eyes at the ball, when Judith turned to him, held out her hand,
+and called him by his Christian name.
+
+From this time all communication with Pentyre Glaze was cut off;
+tidings relative to Judith and Jamie were not to be had. Judith was
+not seen, Aunt Dionysia rarely, and from her nothing was to be
+learned. It would hardly comport with discretion for inquiries to be
+made by Oliver of the servants of the Glaze; but his father, moved by
+Oliver and by his own anxiety, did venture to go to the house and ask
+after Judith. He was coldly received by Miss Trevisa, who took the
+opportunity to insult him by asking if he had come to have his bill
+settled--there being a small account in his favor for Jamie. She paid
+him, and sent the old fellow fuming, stamping, even swearing, home,
+and as ignorant of the condition of Judith as when he went. He had not
+seen Judith, nor had he met Captain Coppinger. He had caught a glimpse
+of Jamie in the yard with his donkey, but the moment the boy saw him
+he dived into the stable, and did not emerge from it till Uncle Zachie
+was gone.
+
+Then Mr. Menaida, still urged by his son and by his own feelings,
+incapable of action unless goaded by these double spurs, went to the
+rectory to ask Mr. Mules if he had seen Judith, and whether anything
+had been done about the signatures in the register.
+
+Mr. Desiderius was communicative.
+
+He had been to Pentyre about the matter. He was, as he said, "in a
+stew over it" himself. It was most awkward; he had filled in as much
+as he could of the register, and all that lacked were the
+signatures--he might say all but that of the bride and Mr. Menaida,
+for there had been a scene. Mrs. Coppinger had come down, and, in the
+presence of the Captain and her aunt, he had expostulated with her,
+had pointed out to her the awkward position in which it placed
+himself, the scruple he felt at retaining the fee, when the work was
+only half done; how, that by appearing at the ball, she had shown to
+the whole neighborhood that she was the wife of Captain Coppinger, and
+that, having done this, she might as well append her name to the entry
+in the register. Then Captain Coppinger and Miss Trevisa had made the
+requisite entries, but Judith had again calmly, but resolutely,
+refused.
+
+Mr. Mules admitted there had been a scene. Mr. Coppinger became angry,
+and used somewhat violent words. But nothing that he himself could
+say, no representations made by her aunt, no urgency on the part of
+her husband could move the resolution of Judith, "which was a bit of
+arrant tomfoolery," said Mr. Desiderius, "and I told her so. Even
+that--the knowledge that she went down a peg in my estimation--even
+that did not move her."
+
+"And how was she?" asked Mr. Menaida.
+
+"Obstinate," answered the rector, "obstinate as a--I mean as a donkey,
+that is the position of affairs. We are at a dead-lock."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+TWO LETTERS.
+
+
+Oliver Menaida was summoned to Bristol by the heads of the firm which
+he served, and he was there detained for ten days.
+
+Whilst he was away, Uncle Zachie felt his solitude greatly. Had he had
+even Jamie with him he might have been content, but to be left
+completely alone was a trial to him, especially since he had become
+accustomed to having the young Trevisa in his house. He missed his
+music. Judith's playing had been to him an inexpressibly great
+delight. The old man for many years had gone on strumming and fumbling
+at music by great masters, incapable of executing it, and unwilling to
+hear it performed by incompetent instrumentalists. At length Judith
+had seated herself at his piano, and had brought into life all that
+wondrous world of melody and harmony which he had guessed at, believed
+in, yearned for, but never reached. And now that he was left without
+her to play to him, he felt like one deprived of a necessary of life.
+
+But his unrest did not spring solely from a selfish motive. He was not
+at ease in his mind about her. Why did he not see her anymore? Why was
+she confined to Pentyre! Was she ill? Was she restrained there against
+her will from visiting her old friends? Mr. Menaida was very unhappy
+because of Judith. He knew that she was resolved never to acknowledge
+Coppinger as her real husband; she did not love him, she shrank from
+him. And knowing what he did--the story of the invasion of the wreck,
+the fight with Oliver--he felt that there was no brutality, no crime
+which Coppinger was not capable of committing, and he trembled for the
+happiness of the poor little creature who was in his hands. Weak and
+irresolute though Mr. Menaida was, he was peppery and impulsive when
+irritated, and his temper had been roused by the manner of his
+reception at the Glaze, when he went there to inquire after Judith.
+
+Whilst engaged on his birds, his hand shook, so that he could not
+shape them aright. When he smoked his pipe, he pulled it from between
+his lips every moment to growl out some remark. When he sipped his
+grog, he could not enjoy it. He had a tender heart, and he had become
+warmly attached to Judith. He firmly believed in identification of the
+ruffian with whom Oliver had fought on the deck, and it was horrible
+to think that the poor child was at his mercy; and that she had no one
+to counsel and to help her.
+
+At length he could endure the suspense no longer. One evening, after
+he had drank a good many glasses of rum and water, he jumped up, put
+on his hat, and went off to Pentyre, determined to insist on seeing
+Judith.
+
+As he approached the house he saw that the hall windows were lighted
+up. He knew which was Judith's room, from what she had told him of its
+position. There was a light in that window also. Uncle Zachie, flushed
+with anger against Coppinger, and with the spirits he had drank,
+anxious about Judith, and resenting the way in which he had been
+treated, went boldly up to the front door and knocked. A maid answered
+his knock, and he asked to see Mrs. Coppinger. The woman hesitated,
+and bade him be seated in the porch. She would go and see.
+
+Presently Miss Trevisa came, and shut the door behind her, as she
+emerged into the porch.
+
+"I should like to see Mrs. Coppinger," said the old man.
+
+"I am sorry--you cannot," answered Miss Trevisa.
+
+"But why not?"
+
+"This is not a fit hour at which to call."
+
+"May I see her if I come at any other hour?"
+
+"I cannot say."
+
+"Why may I not see her?"
+
+"She is unwell."
+
+"If she is unwell, then I am very certain she would be glad to see
+Uncle Zachie."
+
+"Of that I am no judge, but you cannot be admitted now."
+
+"Name the day, the hour, when I may."
+
+"That I am not at liberty to do."
+
+"What ails her? Where is Jamie?"
+
+"Jamie is here--in good hands."
+
+"And Judith."
+
+"She is in good hands."
+
+"In good hands!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "I should like to see the
+good, clean hands worn by anyone in this house, except my dear,
+innocent little Judith. I must and will see her. I must know from her
+own lips how she is. I must see that she is happy--or at least not
+maltreated."
+
+"Your words are an insult to me, her aunt, and to Captain Coppinger,
+her husband," said Miss Trevisa, haughtily.
+
+"Let me have a word with Captain Coppinger."
+
+"He is not at home."
+
+"Not at home!--I hear a great deal of noise. There must be a number of
+guests in the hall. Who is entertaining them, you or Judith!"
+
+"That is no concern of yours, Mr. Menaida."
+
+"I do not believe that Captain Coppinger is not at home. I insist on
+seeing him."
+
+"Were you to see him--you would regret it afterwards. He is not a
+person to receive impertinences and pass them over. You have already
+behaved in a most indecent manner, in encouraging my niece to visit
+your house, and sit, and talk, and walk with, and call by his
+Christian name, that young fellow, your son."
+
+"Oliver!" Mr. Menaida was staggered. It had never occurred to his
+fuddled, yet simple mind, that the intimacy that had sprung up between
+the young people was capable of misinterpretation. The sense that he
+had laid himself open to this charge made him very angry, not with
+himself, but with Coppinger and with Miss Trevisa.
+
+"I'll tell you what," said the old man, "if you will not let me in I
+suppose you will not object to my writing a line to Judith?"
+
+"I have received orders to allow of no communication of any kind
+whatsoever between my niece and you or your house."
+
+"You have received orders--from Coppinger?" the old man flamed with
+anger. "Wait a bit! There is no command issued that you are not to
+take a message from me to your master?"
+
+He put his hand into his pocket, pulled out a note-book, and tore out
+of it a page. Then, by the light from the hall window, he scribbled on
+it a few lines in pencil.
+
+    "Sir!--You are a scoundrel. You bully your wife. You rob, and
+    attempt to murder those who are shipwrecked.--Zachary
+    Menaida."
+
+"There," said the old man, "that will draw him, and I shall see him,
+and have it out with him."
+
+He had wafers in his pocket-book. He wetted and sealed the note. Then
+he considered that he had not said enough, so he opened the page
+again, and added: "I shall tell all the world what I know about you."
+Then he fastened the note again, and directed it. But as it suddenly
+occurred to him that Captain Coppinger might refuse to open the
+letter, he added on the outside, "The contents I know by heart, and
+shall proclaim them on the house-tops." He thrust the note into Miss
+Trevisa's hand, and turned his back on the house, and walked home
+snorting and muttering. On reaching Polzeath, however, he had cooled,
+and thought that possibly he had done a very foolish thing, and that
+most certainly he had in no way helped himself to what he desired, to
+see Judith again. Moreover, with a qualm, he became aware that Oliver,
+on his return from Bristol, would in all probability greatly
+disapprove of this fiery outburst of temper. To what would it lead?
+_Could_ he fight Captain Coppinger? If it came to that, he was ready.
+With all his faults Mr. Menaida was no coward.
+
+On entering his house he found Oliver there, just arrived from
+Camelford. He at once told him what he had done. Oliver did not
+reproach him; he merely said, "A declaration of war, father! and a
+declaration before we are quite prepared."
+
+"Well--I suppose so. I could not help myself. I was so incensed."
+
+"The thing we have to consider," said Oliver, "is what Judith wishes,
+and how it is to be carried out. Some communication must be opened
+with her. If she desires to leave the house of that fellow, we must
+get her away. If, however, she elects to remain, our hands are tied:
+we can do nothing."
+
+"It is very unfortunate that Jamie is no longer here; we could have
+sent her a letter through him."
+
+"He has been removed to prevent anything of the sort taking place."
+
+Then Oliver started up. "I will go and reconnoitre, myself."
+
+"No," said the father. "Leave all to me. You must on no account meddle
+in this matter."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because"--the old man coughed. "Do you not understand--you are a
+young man."
+
+Oliver colored, and said no more. He had not great confidence in his
+father's being able to do anything effectual for Judith. The step he
+had recently taken was injudicious and dangerous, and could further
+the end in view in no way.
+
+He said no more to old Mr. Menaida, but he resolved to act himself, in
+spite of the remonstrance made and the objection raised by his father.
+No sooner was the elder man gone to bed, than he sallied forth and
+took the direction of Pentyre. It was a moonlight night. Clouds indeed
+rolled over the sky, and for awhile obscured the moon, but a moment
+after it flared forth again. A little snow had fallen and frosted the
+ground, making everything unburied by the white flakes to seem inky
+black. A cold wind whistled mournfully over the country. Oliver walked
+on, not feeling the cold, so glowing were his thoughts, and came
+within sight of the Glaze. His father had informed him that there were
+guests in the hall; but when he approached the house, he could see no
+lights from the windows. Indeed, the whole house was dark, as though
+everyone in it were asleep, or it were an uninhabited ruin. That most
+of the windows had shutters he was aware, and that these might be shut
+so as to exclude the chance of any ray issuing he also knew. He could
+not therefore conclude that all the household had retired for the
+night.
+
+The moon was near its full. It hung high aloft in an almost cloudless
+sky. The air was comparatively still--still it never is on that coast,
+nor is it ever unthrilled by sound. Now, above the throb of the ocean,
+could be heard the shrill clatter and cry of the gulls. They were not
+asleep; they were about, fishing or quarrelling in the silver light.
+
+Oliver rather wondered at the house being so hushed--wondered that the
+guests were all dismissed. He knew in which wing of the mansion was
+Judith's room, and also which was Judith's window. The pure white
+light shone on the face of the house and glittered in the
+window-panes.
+
+As Oliver looked, thinking and wondering, he saw the casement opened,
+and Judith appeared at it, leaned with her elbow on the sill, and
+rested her face in her hand, looking up at the moon. The light air
+just lifted her fine hair. Oliver noticed how delicately pale and
+fragile she seemed--white as a gull, fragile as porcelain. He would
+not disturb her for a moment or two; he stood watching, with an
+oppression on his heart, and with a film forming over his eyes. Could
+nothing be done for the little creature? She was moped up in her room.
+She was imprisoned in this house, and she was wasting, dying in
+confinement.
+
+And now he stole noiselessly nearer. There was an old cattle-shed
+adjoining the house, that had lost its roof. Coppinger concerned
+himself little about agriculture, and the shed that had once housed
+cows had been suffered to fall to ruin, the slates had been blown off,
+then the rain had wetted and rotted the rafters, and finally the
+decayed rafters had fallen with their remaining load of slates,
+leaving the walls alone standing.
+
+Up one of the sides of this ruinous shed Oliver climbed, and then
+mounted to the gable, whence he could speak to Judith. But she must
+have heard him, and been alarmed, for she hastily closed the casement.
+Oliver, however, did not abandon his purpose. He broke off particles
+of mortar from the gable of the cow-house and threw them cautiously
+against the window. No notice was taken of the first or the second
+particle that clickered against a pane; but at the third a shadow
+appeared at the window, as though Judith had come to the casement to
+look out. Oliver was convinced that he could be seen; as he was on the
+very summit of the gable, and he raised his hands and arms to ensure
+attention.
+
+Suddenly the shadow was withdrawn. Then hastily he drew forth a scrap
+of paper, on which he had written a few words before he left his
+father's house, in the hopes of obtaining a chance of passing it to
+Judith, through Jamie, or by bribing a servant. This he now wrapped
+round a bit of stone and fastened it with a thread. Next moment the
+casement was opened and the shadow reappeared.
+
+"Back!" whispered Oliver, sufficiently loud to be heard, and he
+dexterously threw the stone and the letter through the open window.
+
+Next moment the casement was shut and the curtains were drawn.
+
+He waited for full a quarter of an hour but no answer was returned.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+THE SECOND TIME.
+
+
+No sooner had Oliver thrown the stone with note tied round it into
+Judith's room through the window, than he descended from a position
+which he esteemed too conspicuous should anyone happen to be about in
+the night near the house. He ensconced himself beneath the cow-shed
+wall in the shadow, where concealed, but was ready should the casement
+open to step forth and show himself.
+
+He had not been there many minutes before he heard steps and voices,
+one of which he immediately recognized as that of Cruel Coppinger.
+Oliver had not been sufficiently long in the neighborhood to know the
+men in it by their voices, but looking round the corner of the wall he
+saw two figures against the horizon, one with hands in his pockets,
+and by the general slouch, he thought that he recognized the sexton of
+S. Enodoc.
+
+"The Black Prince will be in before long," said Coppinger. "I mean
+next week or fortnight, and I must have the goods shored here, this
+time. She will stand off Porth-leze, and mind you get information
+conveyed to the captain of the coast-guard that she will run her cargo
+there. Remember that. We must have a clear coast here. The stores are
+empty and must be refilled."
+
+"Yes, your honor."
+
+"You have furnished him with the key to the signals?"
+
+"Yes, Cap'n."
+
+"And from Porth-leze there are to be signals to the Black Prince to
+come on here--but so that they may be read the other way--you
+understand?"
+
+"Yes, Cap'n."
+
+"And what do they give you every time you carry them a bit of
+information?"
+
+"A shilling."
+
+"A munificent government payment! and what did they give you for the
+false code of signals?"
+
+"Half a crown."
+
+"Then here is half a guinea--and a crown for every lie you impose on
+them."
+
+Then Coppinger and the sexton went further. As soon as Oliver thought
+he could escape unobserved he withdrew and returned to Polzeath.
+
+Next day he had a talk with his father.
+
+"I have had opinions, in Bristol," said he, "relative to the position
+of Judith."
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"From lawyers."
+
+"Well--and what did they say?"
+
+"One said one thing and one another. I stated the case of her
+marriage, its incompletion, the unsigned register, and one opinion was
+that nevertheless she was Mrs. Coppinger. But another opinion was
+that, in consequence of the incompleteness of the marriage, it was
+none--she was Miss Trevisa. Father, before I went to the barristers
+and obtained their opinions, I was as wise as I am now, for I knew
+then, what I know now, that she is either Mrs. Coppinger, or else that
+she is Miss Trevisa."
+
+"I could have told you as much."
+
+"It seems to me--but I may be uncharitable," said Oliver, grimly,
+"that the opinion given was this way or that way according as I showed
+myself interested for the legality or against the legality of the
+marriage. Both of those to whom I applied regarded the case as
+interesting and deserving of being thrashed out in a court of law, and
+gave their opinions so as to induce me to embark in a suit. You
+understand what I mean, father? When I seemed urgent that the marriage
+should be pronounced none at all, then the verdict of the consulting
+barrister was that it was no marriage at all, and very good reasons he
+was able to produce to show that. But when I let it be supposed that
+my object was to get this marriage established against certain parties
+keenly interested in disputing it, I got an opinion that it was a good
+and legal marriage, and very good reasons were produced to sustain
+this conclusion."
+
+"I could have told you as much--and this has cost you money?"
+
+"Yes--naturally."
+
+"And left you without any satisfaction?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"No satisfaction is to be got out of law--that is why I took to
+stuffing birds."
+
+"What is that noise at the door?" asked Oliver.
+
+"There is some one trying to come in, and fumbling at the hasp," said
+his father.
+
+Oliver went to the door and opened it--to find Jamie there, trembling,
+white, and apparently about to faint. He could not speak, but he held
+out a note to Oliver.
+
+"What is the matter with you?" asked the young man.
+
+The boy, however, did not answer, but ran to Mr. Menaida, and crouched
+behind him.
+
+"He has been frightened," said the old man. "Leave him alone. He will
+come round presently and I will give him a drop of spirits to rouse
+him up. What letter is that?"
+
+Oliver looked at the little note given him. It had been sealed, but
+torn open afterward. It was addressed to him, and across the address
+was written in bold, coarse letters with a pencil, "Seen and passed.
+C. C." Oliver opened the letter and read as follows:
+
+    "I pray you leave me. Do not trouble yourself about me.
+    Nothing can now be done for me. My great concern is for
+    Jamie. But I entreat you to be very cautious about yourself
+    where you go. You are in danger. Your life is threatened, and
+    you do not know it. I must not explain myself, but I warn
+    you. Go out of the country--that would be best. Go back to
+    Portugal. I shall not be at ease in my mind till I know that
+    you are gone, and gone unhurt. My dear love to Mr.
+    Menaida--Judith."
+
+The hand that had written this letter had shaken, the letters were
+hastily and imperfectly formed. Was this the hand of Judith who had
+taught Jamie caligraphy, had written out his copies as neatly and
+beautifully as copper-plate?
+
+Judith had sent him this answer by her brother, and Jamie had been
+stopped, forced to deliver up the missive, which Coppinger had opened
+and read. Oliver did not for a moment doubt _whence_ the danger sprang
+with which he was menaced. Coppinger had suffered the warning to be
+conveyed to him with contemptuous indifference--it was as though he
+had scored across the letter--"Be forewarned, take what precautions
+you will--you shall not escape me."
+
+The first challenge had come from old Menaida, but Coppinger passed
+over that as undeserving of attention, but he proclaimed his readiness
+to cross swords with the young man. And Oliver could not deny that he
+had given occasion for this. Without counting the cost, without
+considering the risk; nay, further, without weighing the right and
+wrong in the matter, Oliver had allowed himself to slip into terms of
+some familiarity with Judith, harmless enough were she unmarried, but
+hardly calculated to be so regarded by a husband. They had come to
+consider each other as cousins, or they had pretended so to consider
+each other, so as to justify a half-affectionate, half-intimate
+association, and before he was aware of it Oliver had lost his heart.
+He could not and he would not regard Judith as the wife of Coppinger,
+because he knew that she absolutely refused to be so regarded by him,
+by herself, by his father, though by appearing at the ball with
+Coppinger, by living in his house, she allowed the world to so
+consider her. Was she his wife? He could not suppose it when she had
+refused to conclude the marriage ceremony, when there was no
+documentary evidence for the marriage. Let the question be mooted in a
+court of law; what could the witnesses say, but that she had fainted,
+and that all the latter portion of the ceremony had been performed
+over her when unconscious, and that on her recovery of her faculties
+she had resolutely persisted in resistance to the affixing of her
+signature to the register.
+
+With respect to Judith's feelings toward himself Oliver was ignorant.
+She had taken pleasure in his society, because he had made himself
+agreeable to her, and his company was a relief to her after the
+solitude of Pentyre and the association there with persons with whom
+she was wholly out of sympathy.
+
+His quarrel with Coppinger had shifted ground. At first he had
+resolved, should occasion offer, to conclude with him the contest
+begun on the wreck, and to chastise him for his conduct on that night.
+Now, he thought little of that cause of resentment, he desired to
+punish him for having been the occasion of so much misery to Judith.
+He could not now drive from his head the scene of the girl's wan face
+at the window, looking up at the moon.
+
+Oliver would shrink from doing anything dishonorable, but it did not
+seem to him that there could be aught wrong and unbecoming a gentleman
+in endeavoring to snatch this hapless child from the claws of the wild
+beast that had struck it down.
+
+"No, father," said he hastily, as the old fellow was pouring out a
+pretty strong dose of his great specific and about to administer it to
+Jamie, "no father, it is not that the boy wants; and remember how
+strongly Judith objects to his being given spirits."
+
+"Dear, dear!" exclaimed Uncle Zachie, "to be sure she does, and she
+made me promise not to give him any. But this is an exceptional case."
+
+"Let him come to me, I will soothe him. The child is frightened, or
+stay, get him to help you with that kittiwake. Jamie, father can't get
+the bird to look natural; his head does not seem to me to be right.
+Did you ever see a kittiwake turn his neck in that fashion? I wish you
+would put your fingers to the throat, and bend it about, and set the
+wadding where it ought to be. Father and I can't agree about it."
+
+"It is wrong," said Jamie. "Look, this is the way." His mind was
+diverted. Always volatile, always ready to be turned from one thing to
+another, Oliver had succeeded in interesting him, and had made him
+forget for a moment the terrors that had shaken him.
+
+After Jamie had been in the house for half an hour, Oliver advised him
+to return to the Glaze. He would give him no message, verbal or
+written. But the thought of having to return renewed the poor child's
+fears, and Oliver could hardly allay them by promising to accompany
+him part of the way.
+
+Oliver was careful not to speak to him on the subject of his alarm,
+but he gathered from his disjointed talk that Judith had given him the
+note and impressed on him that it was to be delivered as secretly as
+possible; that Coppinger had intercepted him, and suspecting
+something, had threatened and frightened him into divulging the truth.
+Then Captain Cruel had read the letter, scored over it some words in
+pencil, given it back to him, and ordered him to fulfil his
+commission, to deliver the note.
+
+"Look you here, Jamie," was Mr. Menaida's parting injunction to the
+lad as he left the house, "there's no reason for you to be idle when
+at Pentyre. You can make friends with some of the men and get birds
+shot. I don't advise your having a gun, you are not careful enough.
+But if they shoot birds you may amuse your leisure in skinning them,
+and I gave Judith arsenic for you. She keeps it in her workbox, and
+will let you have sufficient for your purpose as you need it. I would
+not give it to you, as it might be dangerous in your hands as a gun.
+It is a deadly poison, and with carelessness you might kill a man. But
+go to Judith when you have a skin ready to dress and she will see that
+you have sufficient for the dressing. There, good-by, and bring me
+some skins shortly."
+
+Oliver accompanied the boy as far as the gate that led into the lane
+between the walls enclosing the fields of the Pentyre estate. Jamie
+pressed him to come farther, but this the young man would not do. He
+bade the poor lad farewell, bid him divert himself as his father had
+advised, with bird stuffing, and remained at the gate watching him
+depart. The boy's face and feebleness touched and stirred the heart of
+Oliver. The face reminded him so strongly of his twin sister, but it
+was the shadow, the pale shadow of Judith only, without the
+intelligence, the character, and the force. And the helplessness of
+the child, his desolation, his condition of nervous alarm roused the
+young man's pity. He was startled by a shot, that struck his gray hat
+simultaneously with the report.
+
+In a moment he sprang over the hedge in the direction whence the smoke
+rose, and came upon Cruel Coppinger with a gun.
+
+"Oh, you!" said the latter, with a sneer, "I thought I was shooting a
+rabbit."
+
+"This is the second time," said Oliver.
+
+"The first," was Coppinger's correction.
+
+"Not so--the second time you have levelled at me. The first was on the
+wreck when I struck up your hand."
+
+Coppinger shrugged his shoulders. "It is immaterial. The third time is
+lucky, folks say."
+
+The two men looked at each other with hostility.
+
+"Your father has insulted me," said Coppinger. "Are you ready to take
+up his cause? I will not fight an old fool."
+
+"I am ready to take up his cause, mine also, and that of----" Oliver
+checked himself.
+
+"And that of whom?" asked Coppinger, white with rage, and in a
+quivering voice.
+
+"The cause of my father and mine own will suffice," said Oliver.
+
+"And when shall we meet?" asked Captain Cruel, leaning on his gun and
+glaring at his young antagonist over it.
+
+"When and where suits me," answered Oliver, coldly.
+
+"And when and where may that be?"
+
+"When and where!--when and where I can come suddenly on you as you
+came on me upon the wreck. With such as you--one does not observe the
+ordinary rules."
+
+"Very well," shouted Coppinger. "When and where suits you, and when
+and where suits me--that is, whenever we meet again--we meet finally."
+
+Then each turned and strode away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+THE WHIP FALLS.
+
+
+For many days Judith had been as a prisoner in the house, in her room.
+Some one had spoken to Coppinger and had roused his suspicions,
+excited his jealousy. He had forbidden her visits to Polzeath; and to
+prevent communication between her and the Menaidas, father and son, he
+had removed Jamie to Pentyre Glaze.
+
+Angry and jealous he was. Time had passed, and still he had not
+advanced a step, rather he had lost ground. Judith's hopes that he was
+not what he had been represented, were dashed. However plausible might
+be his story to account for the jewels, she did not believe it.
+
+Why was Judith not submissive? Coppinger could now only conclude that
+she had formed an attachment for Oliver Menaida--for that young man
+whom she singled out, greeted with a smile, and called by his
+Christian name. He had heard of how she had made daily visits to the
+house of his father, how Oliver had been seen attending her home, and
+his heart foamed with rage and jealousy.
+
+She had no desire to go anywhere, now that she was forbidden to go to
+Polzeath, and when she knew that she was watched. She would not
+descend to the hall and mix with the company often assembled there,
+and though she occasionally went there when Coppinger was alone, took
+her knitting and sat by the fire, and attempted to make conversation
+about ordinary matters, yet his temper, his outbursts of rancor, his
+impatience of every other topic save their relations to each other,
+and his hatred of the Menaidas, made it intolerable for her to be with
+him alone, and she desisted from seeking the hall. This incensed him,
+and he occasionally went up-stairs, sought her out and insisted on her
+coming down. She would obey, but some outbreak would speedily drive
+her from his presence again.
+
+Their relations were more strained than ever. His love for her had
+lost the complexion of love and had assumed that of jealousy. His
+tenderness and gentleness toward her had been fed by hope, and when
+hope died they vanished. Even that reverence for her innocence and the
+respect for her character that he had shown was dissipated by the
+stormy gusts of jealousy.
+
+Miss Trevisa was no more a help and stay to the poor girl than she had
+been previously. She was soured and embittered, for her ambition to be
+out of the house and in Othello Cottage had been frustrated. Coppinger
+would not let her go till he and his wife had come to more friendly
+terms. On her chimney-piece were two bunches of lavender, old lavender
+from the rectory garden of the preceding year. They had become so dry
+that the seeds fell out, and they no longer exhaled scent unless
+pressed.
+
+Judith stood at her chimney-piece pressing her finger on the dropped
+seeds, and picking them up by this means to throw them into the small
+fire that smouldered in the grate. At first she went on listlessly
+picking up a seed and casting it into the fire, actuated by her innate
+love of order, without much thought--rather without any thought--for
+her mind was engaged over the letter of Oliver and his visit the
+previous night outside. But after a while, while thus gathering the
+grains of lavender, she came to associate them with her trouble, and
+as she thought--"Is there any escape for me, any happiness in
+store?"--she picked up a seed and cast it into the fire. Then she
+asked: "Is there any other escape for me than to die--to die and be
+with dear papa again, now not in S. Enodoc Rectory garden, but in the
+garden of Paradise?" And again she picked up and cast away a grain.
+Then, as she touched her fingertip with her tongue and applied it to
+another lavender seed, she said: "Or must this go on--this nightmare
+of wretchedness, of persecution, of weariness to death without dying,
+for years?" And she cast away the seed shudderingly. "Or"--and again,
+now without touching her finger with her tongue, as though the last
+thought had contaminated it--"or will he finally break and subdue me,
+destroy me and Jamie, soul and body?" Shivering at the thought she
+hardly dare to touch a seed, but forced herself to do so, raised one,
+and hastily shook it from her.
+
+Thus she continued ringing the change, never formulating any scheme
+of happiness for herself--certainly, in her white, guileless mind, not
+in any way associating Oliver with happiness, save as one who might by
+some means effect her discharge from this bondage--but he was not
+linked, not woven up with any thought of the future.
+
+The wind clickered at the casement. She had a window toward the sea;
+another, opposite, toward the land. Hers was a transparent chamber,
+and her mind had been transparent. Only now, timidly, doubtfully, not
+knowing herself why, did she draw a blind down over her soul, as
+though there were something there that she would not have all the
+world see, and yet which was in itself innocent. Then a new fear woke
+up in her, lest she should go mad. Day after day, night after night,
+was spent in the same revolution of distressing thought, in the same
+bringing up and reconsidering of old difficulties, questions
+concerning Coppinger, questions concerning Jamie, questions concerning
+her own power of endurance and resistance. Was it possible that this
+could go on without driving her mad?
+
+"One thing I see," murmured she; "all steps are broken away under me
+on the stair, and one thing alone remains for me to cling to--one only
+thing--my understanding. That"--she put her hands to her head--"that
+is all I have left. My name is gone from me. My friends I am separated
+from. My brother may not be with me. My happiness is all gone. My
+health may break down, but to a clear understanding I must hold; if
+that fails me I am lost--lost indeed."
+
+"Lost indeed!" exclaimed Coppinger, entering abruptly. He had caught
+her last words. He came in in white rage, blinded and forgetful in his
+passion, and with his hat on. There was a day when he entered the
+boudoir with his head covered, and Judith, without a word, by the mere
+force of her character shining out of her clear eyes, had made him
+retreat and uncover. It was not so now. She was careless whether he
+wore the hat or not when he entered her room. "So!" said he, in a
+voice that foamed out of his mouth, "letters pass between you!
+Letters--I have read that you sent. I stayed your messenger."
+
+"Well," answered Judith, with such composure as she could muster. She
+had already passed through several stormy scenes with him, and knew
+that her only security lay in self-restraint. "There was naught in it
+that you might not read. What did I say? That my condition was
+fixed--that none could alter it; that is true. That my great care and
+sorrow of heart is for Jamie; that is true. That Oliver Menaida has
+been threatened; that also is true. I have heard you speak words
+against him of no good."
+
+"I will make good my words."
+
+"I wrote, and hoped to save him from a danger, and you from a crime."
+
+Coppinger laughed. "I have sent on the letter. Let him take what
+precautions he will. I will chastise him. No man ever crossed me yet
+but was brought to bite the dust."
+
+"He has not harmed you, Captain Coppinger."
+
+"He! Can I endure that you should call him by his Christian name,
+while I am but Captain Coppinger? That you should seek him out, laugh,
+and talk, and flirt with him--"
+
+"Captain Coppinger!"
+
+"Yes," raged he, "always Captain Coppinger, or Captain Cruel, and he
+is dear Oliver! sweet Oliver!" He well-nigh suffocated in his fury.
+
+Judith drew herself up and folded her arms. She had in one hand a
+sprig of lavender from which she had been shaking the over-ripe
+grains. She turned deadly white.
+
+"Give me up his letter. Yours was an answer!"
+
+"I will give it to you," answered Judith, and she went to her workbox,
+raised the lid, then the little tray containing reels, and from
+beneath it extracted a crumpled scrap of paper. She handed it calmly,
+haughtily to Coppinger, then folded her arms again, one hand still
+holding the bunch of lavender.
+
+The letter was short. Coppinger's hand shook with passion so that he
+could hardly hold it with sufficient steadiness to read it. It ran as
+follows:
+
+"I must know your wishes, dear Judith. Do you intend to remain in that
+den of wreckers and cut-throats? or do you desire that your friends
+should bestir themselves to obtain your release? Tell us, in one word,
+what to do, or rather what are your wishes, and we will do what we
+can."
+
+"Well!" said Coppinger, looking up. "And your answer is to the
+point--you wish to stay."
+
+"I did not answer thus. I said--leave me."
+
+"And never intended that he should leave you," raged Coppinger. He
+came close up to her with his eyes glittering, his nostrils distended
+and snorting and his hands clinched.
+
+Judith loosened her arms, and with her right hand swept a space before
+her with the bunch of lavender. He should not approach her within
+arm's length; the lavender marked the limit beyond which he might not
+draw near.
+
+"Now, hear me!" said Coppinger. "I have been too indulgent. I have
+humored you as a spoilt child. Because you willed this or that, I have
+submitted. But the time for humoring is over. I can endure this
+suspense no longer. Either you are my wife or you are not. I will
+suffer no trifling over this any longer. You have as it were put your
+lips to mine, and then sharply drawn them away--and now offer them to
+another."
+
+"Silence!" exclaimed Judith. "You insult me."
+
+"You insult and outrage me!" said Coppinger, "when you run from your
+home to chatter with and walk with this Oliver, and never deign to
+speak to me. When he is your dear Oliver, and I am only Captain
+Coppinger; when you have smiles for him you have black looks for me.
+Is not that insulting, galling, stinging, maddening?"
+
+Judith was silent. Her throat swelled. There was some truth in what he
+said; but, in the sight of heaven, she was guiltless of ever having
+thought of wrong, of having supposed for a moment that what she had
+allowed herself had not been harmless.
+
+"You are silent," said Coppinger. "Now hearken! With this moment I
+turn over the page of humoring your fancies and yielding to your
+follies. I have never pressed you to sign that register--I have
+trusted to your good sense and good feeling. You cannot go back. Even
+if you desire it, you cannot undo what has been done. Mine you are,
+mine you shall be--mine wholly and always. Do you hear?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And agree?"
+
+"No."
+
+He was silent a moment, with clinched teeth and hands looking at her,
+with eyes that smote her, as though they were bullets.
+
+"Very well," said he. "Your answer is no."
+
+"My answer is no, so help me God."
+
+"Very well," said he, between his teeth. "Then we open a new chapter."
+
+"What chapter is that?"
+
+"It is that of compulsion. That of solicitation is closed."
+
+"You cannot, whilst I have my senses. What!" She saw that he had a
+great riding-whip in his hand. "What--the old story again! You will
+strike me?"
+
+"No--not you. I will lash you into submission--through Jamie."
+
+She uttered a cry, dropped the lavender, that became scattered before
+her, and held up her hands in mute entreaty.
+
+"I owe him chastisement. I have owed it him for many a day--and to-day
+above all--as a go-between."
+
+Judith could not speak. She remained as one frozen--in one attitude,
+in one spot, speechless. She could not stir, she could not utter a
+word of entreaty, as Coppinger left the room.
+
+In another minute a loud and shrill cry reached her ears from the
+court into which one of her windows looked. She knew the cry. It was
+that of her twin brother, and it thrilled through her heart, quivered
+in every nerve of her whole frame.
+
+She could hear what followed; but she could not stir. She was rooted
+by her feet to the floor, but she writhed there. It was as though
+every blow dealt the boy outside fell on her: she bent, she quivered,
+her lips parted, but cry she could not, the sweat rolled off her brow;
+she beat with her hands in the air. Now she thrilled up with uplifted
+arms, on tip-toe, then sank--it was like a flame flickering in a
+socket before it expires: it dances, it curls, it shoots up in a
+tongue, it sinks into a bead of light, it rolls on one side, it sways
+to the other, it leaps from the wick high into the air, and drops
+again. It was so with Judith--every stroke dealt, every scream of the
+tortured boy, every toss of his suffering frame, was repeated in her
+room, by her--in supreme, unspeaking anguish, too intense for sound to
+issue from her contracted throat.
+
+Then all was still, and Judith had sunk to her knees on the scattered
+lavender, extending her arms, clasping her hands, spreading them
+again, again beating her palms together, in a vague, unconscious way,
+as if in breathing she could not gain breath enough without this
+expansion and stretching forth of her arms.
+
+But, all at once, before her stood Coppinger, the whip in his hands.
+
+"Well! what now is your answer?"
+
+She breathed fast for some moments, laboring for expression. Then she
+reared herself up and tried to speak, but could not. Before her,
+threshed out on the floor, were the lavender seeds. They lay thick in
+a film over the boards in one place. She put her finger among them and
+drew No.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+GONE FROM ITS PLACE.
+
+
+There are persons, they are not many, on whom Luck smiles and showers
+gold. Not a steady daily downpour of money but, whenever a little
+cloud darkens their sky, that same little cloud, which to others would
+be mere gloom, opens and discharges on them a sprinkling of gold
+pieces.
+
+It is not always the case that those who have rich relatives come in
+for good things from them. In many cases there are such on whom Luck
+turns her back, but to those of whom we speak the rain of gold, and
+the snow of scrip and bonds come unexpectedly, but inevitably. Just as
+Pilatus catches every cloud that drifts over Switzerland, so do they
+by some fatality catch something out of every trouble, that tends
+materially to solace their feelings, lacerated by that trouble. But
+not so only. These little showers fall to them from relatives they
+have taken no trouble to keep on good terms with, from acquaintances
+whom they have cut, admirers whose good opinion they have not
+concerned themselves to cultivate, friends with whom they have
+quarrelled. Gideon's fleece, on one occasion, gathered to itself all
+the dew that fell, and left the grass of the field around quite dry.
+So do these fortunate persons concentrate on themselves, fortuitively
+it seems, the dew of richness that descends and might have, ought to
+have, dropped elsewhere; at all events, ought to have been more evenly
+and impartially distributed. Gideon's fleece, on another occasion was
+dry, when all the glebe was dripping. So is it with certain
+unfortunates, Luck never favors them. What they have expected and
+counted on they do not get, it is diverted, it drops round about them
+on every side, only on them it never falls.
+
+Now, Miss Trevisa cannot be said to have belonged to either of these
+classes. To the latter she had pertained till suddenly, from a
+quarter quite unregarded, there came down on her a very satisfactory
+little splash. Of relatives that were rich she had none, because she
+had no relatives at all. Of bosom friends she had none, for her bosom
+was of that unyielding nature, that no one would like to be taken to
+it. But, before the marriage of her brother, and before he became
+rector of S. Enodoc, when he was but a poor curate, she had been
+companion to a spinster lady, Miss Ceely, near S. Austell. Now the
+companion is supposed to be a person without an opinion of her own,
+always standing in a cringing position to receive the opinion of her
+mistress, then to turn it over and give it forth as her own. She is,
+if she be a proper companion, a mere echo of the sentiments of her
+employer. Moreover, she is expected to be amiable, never to resent a
+rude word, never to take umbrage at neglect, always to be ready to
+dance attendance on her mistress, and with enthusiasm of devotion,
+real or simulated, to carry out her most absurd wishes, unreasoningly.
+But Miss Trevisa had been, as a companion, all that a companion ought
+not to be. She had argued with Miss Ceely, invariably, had crossed her
+opinions, had grumbled at her when she asked that anything might be
+done, raised difficulties, piled up objections, blocked the way to
+whatever Miss Ceely particularly set the heart on having executed. The
+two ladies were always quarrelling, always calling each other names,
+and it was a marvel to the relatives of Miss Ceely that she and her
+companion hung together for longer than a month. Nevertheless they
+did. Miss Trevisa left the old lady when Mr. Peter Trevisa became
+rector of S. Enodoc, and then Miss Ceely obtained in her place quite
+an ideal companion, a very mirror--she had but to look on her face,
+smile, and a smile was repeated, weep, and tears came in the mirror.
+The new companion grovelled at her feet, licked the dust off her
+shoes, fawned on her hand, ran herself off her legs to serve her, grew
+gray under the misery of enduring Miss Ceely's jibes and sneers and
+insults, finally sacrificed her health in nursing her. When Miss
+Ceely's will was opened it was found that she had left nothing--not a
+farthing to this obsequious attendant, but had bequeathed fifteen
+hundred pounds, free of legacy duty, and all her furniture and her
+house to Miss Trevisa, with whom she had not kept up correspondence
+for twenty-three years. It really seemed as if leathery, rusty Aunt
+Dionysia, from being a dry Gideon's fleece, were about to be turned
+into a wet and wringable fleece. No one was more astounded than
+herself.
+
+It was now necessary that Miss Trevisa should go to S. Austell and see
+after what had come to her thus unsolicited and unexpectedly. All need
+for her to remain at Pentyre was at an end.
+
+Before she departed--not finally, but to see about the furniture that
+was now hers, and to make up her mind whether to keep or to sell
+it--she called Judith to her.
+
+That day, the events of which were given in last chapter, had produced
+a profound impression on Jamie. He had become gloomy, timid, and
+silent. His old idle chatter ceased. He clung to his sister, and
+accompanied her wherever she went; he could not endure to be with
+Coppinger. When he heard his voice, caught a glimpse of him, he ran
+away and hid. Jamie had been humored as a child, never beaten,
+scolded, put in a corner, sent to bed, cut off his pudding, but the
+rod had now been applied to his back and his first experience of
+corporal punishment was the cruel and vindictive hiding administered,
+not for any fault he had committed but because he had done his
+sister's bidding. He was filled with hatred of Coppinger, mingled with
+fear, and when alone with Judith would break out into exclamations of
+entreaty that she would run away with him, and of detestation of the
+man who held them there, as it were prisoners.
+
+"Ju," said he, "I wish he were dead. I hate him. Why doesn't God kill
+him and set us free!"
+
+At another time he said, "Ju, dear! You do not love him. I wish I were
+a big strong man like Oliver, and I would do what Captain Cruel did."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Captain Cruel shot at Oliver."
+
+This was the first tidings Judith had heard of the attempt on Oliver's
+life.
+
+"He is a mean coward," said Jamie. "He hid behind a hedge and shot at
+him. But he did not hurt him."
+
+"God preserved him," said Judith.
+
+"Why does not God preserve us! Why did God let that beast----"
+
+"Hush, Jamie!"
+
+"I will not--that wretch--beat me? Why did He not send lightning and
+strike him dead?"
+
+"I cannot tell you, darling. We must wait and trust."
+
+"I am tired of waiting and trusting. If I had a gun I would not shoot
+birds, I would go behind a hedge and shoot Captain Coppinger. There
+would be nothing wrong in that, Ju?"
+
+"Yes there would. It would be a sin."
+
+"Not after he did that to Oliver."
+
+"I would never--never love you, if you did that."
+
+"You would always love me whatever I did," said Jamie. He spoke the
+truth, Judith knew it. Her eyes filled, she drew the boy to her
+passionately and kissed his golden head.
+
+Then came Aunt Dionysia and summoned her into her own room. Jamie
+followed.
+
+"Judith," began Aunt Dunes, in her usual hard tones, and with the same
+frozen face, "I wish you particularly to understand. Look here! You
+have caused me annoyance enough while I have been here. Now I shall
+have a house of my own at S. Austell, and if I choose to live in it I
+can. If I do not, I can let it, and live at Othello Cottage. I have
+not made up my mind what to do. Fifteen hundred pounds is a dirty
+little sum, and not half as much as ought to have been left me for all
+I had to bear from that old woman. I am glad for one thing that she
+has left me something, though not much. I should have despaired of her
+salvation had she not. However her heart was touched at the last,
+though not touched enough. Now what I want you to understand is
+this--it entirely depends on your conduct whether after my death this
+sum of fifteen hundred pounds and a beggarly sum of about five hundred
+I have of my own, comes to you or not. As long as this nonsense goes
+on between you and Captain Coppinger--you pretending you are not
+married, when you are, there is no security for me that you and Jamie
+may not come tumbling in upon me and become a burden to me. Captain
+Coppinger will not endure this fooling much longer. _He_ can take
+advantage of your mistake. _He_ can say--I am not married. Where is
+the evidence? Produce proof of the marriage having been
+solemnized--and then he may send you out of his house upon the downs
+in the cold. What would you be then, eh? All the world holds you to
+be Mrs. Coppinger. A nice state of affairs, if it wakes up one morning
+to hear that Mrs. Coppinger has been kicked out of the Glaze, that she
+never was the wife. What will the world say, eh? What sort of name
+will the world give you, when you have lived here as his wife."
+
+"That I have not."
+
+"Lived here, gone to balls as his wife when you were not. What will
+the world call you, eh?"
+
+Judith was silent, holding both her hands, open against her bosom.
+Jamie beside her, looking up in her face, not understanding what his
+aunt was saying.
+
+"Very well--or rather very ill!" continued Miss Trevisa. "And then you
+and this boy here will come to me to take you in, come and saddle
+yourselves on me, and eat up my little fund. That is what will be the
+end of it, if you remain in your folly. Go at once to the rector, and
+put your name where it should have been two months ago, and your
+position is secure, he cannot drive you away, disgusted at your
+stubbornness, and you will relieve me of a constant source of
+uneasiness. It is not that only, but I must care for the good name of
+Trevisa, which you happen to bear, that that name may not be trailed
+in the dust. The common sense of the matter is precisely what you
+cannot see. If you are not Coppinger's wife you should not be here. If
+you are Coppinger's wife, then your name should be in the register.
+Now here you have come. You have appeared in public with him. You have
+but one course open to you, and that is to secure your position and
+your name and honor. You cannot undo what is done, but you can
+complete what is done insufficiently. The choice between alternatives
+is no longer before you. If you had purposed to withdraw from
+marriage, break off the engagement, then you should not have come on
+to Pentyre, and remained here. As, however, you did this, there is
+absolutely nothing else to be done, but to sign the register. Do you
+hear me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you will obey?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Pig-headed fool," said Miss Trevisa. "Not one penny will I leave you.
+That I swear, if you remain obstinate."
+
+"Do not let us say anything more about that, aunt. Now you are going
+away, is there anything connected with the house you wish me to attend
+to? That I will do readily."
+
+"Yes, there are several things," growled Miss Trevisa, "and, first of
+all, are you disposed to do anything, any common little kindness for
+the man whose bread you eat, whose roof covers you?"
+
+"Yes, aunt."
+
+"Very well, then. Captain Coppinger has his bowl of porridge every
+morning. I suppose he was accustomed to it before he came into these
+parts, and he cannot breakfast without it. He says that our Cornish
+maids cannot make porridge properly, and I have been accustomed to see
+to it. Either it is lumpy, or it is watery, or it is saltless. Will
+you see to that?"
+
+"Yes, aunt, willingly."
+
+"You ought to know how to make porridge, as you are more than half
+Scottish."
+
+"I certainly can make it. Dear papa always liked it."
+
+"Then you will attend to that. If you are too high and too great a
+lady to put your hand to it yourself, you can see that the cook
+manages it aright. There is a new girl in now, who is a fool."
+
+"I will make it myself. I will do all I can do."
+
+"Then take the keys. Now that I go, you must be mistress of the house.
+But for your folly, I might have been from here, and in my own house,
+or rather in that given me for my use, Othello Cottage. I was to have
+gone there directly after your marriage, I had furnished it, and made
+it comfortable, and then you took to your fantastic notions, and hung
+back, and refused to allow that you were married, and so I had to
+stick on here two months. Here, take the keys." Miss Trevisa almost
+flung them at her niece. "Now I have two thousand pounds of my own,
+and a house at S. Austell, it does not become me to be doing menial
+service. Take the keys. I will never have them back."
+
+When Miss Trevisa was gone, and Judith was by herself at night, Jamie
+being asleep, she was able to think over calmly what her aunt had
+said. She concerned herself not the least, relative to the promise her
+aunt had made of leaving her two thousand pounds, were she
+submissive, and her threat of disinheriting her, should she continue
+recalcitrant, but she did feel that there was truth in her aunt's
+words when she said that she, Judith, had placed herself in a wrong
+position--but it was a wrong position into which she had been forced,
+she had not voluntarily entered it. She had, indeed, consented to
+become Coppinger's wife, but when she found that Coppinger had
+employed Jamie to give signals that might mislead a vessel to its ruin
+she could not go further to meet him. Although he had endeavored to
+clear himself in her eyes, she did not believe him. She was convinced
+that he was guilty, though at moments she hoped, and tried to persuade
+herself that he was not. Then came the matter of the diamonds. There,
+again, the gravest suspicion rested on him. Again he had endeavored to
+exculpate himself, yet she could not believe that he was innocent.
+Till full confidence that he was blameless in these matters was
+restored, an insuperable wall divided them. Never would she belong to
+a man who was a wrecker, who belonged to that class of criminals her
+father had regarded with the utmost horror.
+
+Before she retired to bed, she picked up from under the fender the
+scrap of paper on which Oliver's message had been written. It had lain
+there unobserved where Coppinger had flung it, now, as she tidied her
+room, and arranged the fire-rug, she observed it. She smoothed it out,
+folded it, and went to her workbox to replace it where it had been
+before.
+
+She raised the lid, and was about to put the note among some other
+papers she had there, a letter of her mother's, a piece of her
+father's writing, some little accounts she had kept, when she was
+startled to see that the packet of arsenic Mr. Menaida had given her
+was missing.
+
+She turned out the contents of her workbox. It was nowhere to be
+found, either there, or in her drawers. Her aunt must have been prying
+into the box, have found and removed it, so Judith thought, and with
+this thought appeased her alarm. Perhaps, considering the danger of
+having arsenic about, Aunt Dionysia had done right in removing it. She
+had done wrong in doing so without speaking to Judith.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+A SECOND LIE.
+
+
+Next day, Miss Trevisa being gone, Judith had to attend to the work of
+the house. It was her manifest duty to do so. Hitherto she had shrunk
+from the responsibility, because she shrank from assuming a position
+in the house to which she refused to consider that she had a right.
+Judith was perfectly competent to manage an establishment, she had a
+clear head, a love of order, and a power of exacting obedience of
+servants without incessant reproof. Moreover, she had that faculty
+possessed by few of directing others in their work so that each moved
+along his or her own line and fulfilled the allotted work with ease.
+She had managed her father's house, and managed it admirably. She knew
+that, as the king's government must be carried on, so the routine of a
+household must be kept going. Judith had sufficient acquaintance also
+with servants to be aware that the wheel would stop or move
+spasmodically, unless an authoritative hand were applied to it to keep
+it in even revolution. She knew also that whatever happened in a
+house--a birth, a death, a wedding, an uproar--the round of common
+duties must be discharged, the meals prepared, the bread baked, the
+milk skimmed, the beds made, the carpets swept, the furniture dusted,
+the windows opened, the blinds drawn down, the table laid, the silver
+and glass burnished. Nothing save a fire which gutted a house must
+interfere with all this routine. Miss Trevisa was one of those ladies
+who, in their own opinion, are condemned by Providence never to have
+good servants. A benign Providence sheds good domestics into every
+other house, save that which she rules. She is born under a star which
+inexorably sends the scum and dregs of servantdom under her sceptre.
+Miss Trevisa regarded a servant as a cat regards a mouse, a dog
+regards a fox, and a dolphin a flying-fish, as something to be run
+after, snapped at, clawed, leaped upon, worried perpetually. She was
+incapable of believing that there could be any good in a servant, that
+there was any other side to a domestic save a seamy side. She could
+make no allowance for ignorance, for weakness, for lightheartedness. A
+servant in her eyes must be a drudge ever working, never speaking,
+smiling, taking a hand off the duster, without a mind above flue and
+tea-leaves, and unable to soar above a cobweb; with a temper perfect
+in endurance of daily, hourly fault-finding, nagging, grumbling, a
+mind unambitious also of commendation. Miss Trevisa held that every
+servant that a malign Providence had sent her was clumsy, insolent,
+slatternly, unmethodical, idle, wasteful, a gossip, a gadabout, a
+liar, a thief, was dainty, greedy, one of a cursed generation; and
+when in the Psalms, David launched out in denunciation of the enemies
+of the Lord, Miss Trevisa, when she heard or read these Psalms,
+thought of servantdom. Servants were referred to when David said,
+"Hide me from the insurrection of the wicked doers, who have whet
+their tongues like a sword, that they may privily shoot at him that is
+perfect," _i.e._, me, was Miss Trevisa's comment. "They encourage
+themselves in mischief; and commune among themselves how they may lay
+snares, and say, that no man shall see them." "And how," said Miss
+Trevisa, "can men be so blind as not to believe that the Bible is
+inspired when David hits the character of servants off to the life!"
+
+And not the Psalms only, but the Prophets were full of servants'
+delinquencies. What were Tyre and Egypt but figures of servantdom
+shadowed before. What else did Isaiah lift up his testimony about, and
+Jeremiah lament over, but the iniquities of the kitchen and the
+servants' hall. Miss Trevisa read her Bible, and great comfort did it
+afford her, because it did denounce the servant maids so unsparingly
+and prepared brimstone and outer darkness for them.
+
+Now Judith had seen and heard much of the way in which Miss Trevisa
+managed Captain Coppinger's house. Her room adjoined that of her aunt,
+and she knew that if her aunt were engaged on--it mattered not what
+absorbing work, embroidery, darning a stocking, reading a novel,
+saying her prayers, studying the cookery book--if a servant sneezed
+within a hundred yards, or upset a drop of water, or clanked a
+dust-pan, or clicked a door-handle, Miss Trevisa would be distracted
+from her work and rush out of her room, just as a spider darts from
+its recess, and sweep down on the luckless servant to worry and abuse
+her.
+
+Judith, knowing this, knew also that the day of Miss Trevisa's
+departure would be marked with white chalk, and lead to a general
+relaxation of discipline, to an inhaling of long breaths, and a
+general stretching and taking of ease. It was necessary, therefore,
+that she should go round and see that the wheel was kept turning.
+
+To her surprise, on entering the hall, she found Captain Coppinger
+there.
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said, "I thought you were out."
+
+She looked at him and was struck with his appearance, the clay-like
+color of his face, the dark lines in it, the faded look in his eyes.
+
+"Are you unwell?" she asked; "you really look ill."
+
+"I am ill."
+
+"Ill--what is the matter?"
+
+"A burning in my throat. Cramp and pains--but what is that to you?"
+
+"When did it come on?"
+
+"But recently."
+
+"Will you not have a doctor to see you?"
+
+"A doctor!--no."
+
+"Was the porridge as you liked it this morning? I made it."
+
+"It was good enough."
+
+"Would you like more now?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And to-morrow morning, will you have the same?"
+
+"Yes--the same."
+
+"I will make it again. Aunt said the new cook did not understand how
+to mix and boil it to your liking."
+
+Coppinger nodded.
+
+Judith remained standing and observing him. Some faces when touched by
+pain and sickness are softened and sweetened. The hand of suffering
+passes over the countenance and brushes away all that is frivolous,
+sordid, vulgar; it gives dignity, purity, refinement, and shows what
+the inner soul might be were it not entangled and degraded by base
+association and pursuit. It is different with other faces, the hand of
+suffering films away the assumed expression of good nature, honesty,
+straightforwardness, and unmasks the evil inner man. The touch of pain
+had not improved the expression of Cruel Coppinger. It cannot,
+however, with justice be said that the gentler aspect of the man,
+which Judith had at one time seen, was an assumption. He was a man in
+whom there was a certain element of good, but it was mixed up with
+headlong wilfulness, utter selfishness, and resolution to have his own
+way at any cost.
+
+Judith could see, now that his face was pain-struck, how much of evil
+there was in the soul that had been disguised by a certain dash of
+masculine overbearing and brusqueness.
+
+"What are you looking at?" asked Coppinger, glancing up.
+
+"I was thinking," answered Judith.
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Of you--of Wyvill, of the wreck on Doom Bar, of the jewels of Lady
+Knighton, and last of all of Jamie's maltreatment."
+
+"And what of all that?" he said in irritable scorn.
+
+"That I need not say. I have drawn my own conclusions."
+
+"You torment me, you--when I am ill? They call me Cruel, but it is you
+who are cruel."
+
+Judith did not wish to be drawn into discussion that must be
+fruitless. She said, quietly, in altered tone, "Can I get you anything
+to comfort you?"
+
+"No--go your way. This will pass. Besides, it is naught to you. Go; I
+would be left alone."
+
+Judith obeyed, but she was uneasy. She had never seen Coppinger look
+as he looked now. It was other, altogether, after he had broken his
+arm. Other, also, when for a day he was crippled with bruises, after
+the wreck. She looked into the hall several times during the day. In
+the afternoon he was easier, and went out; his mouth had been parched
+and burning, and he had been drinking milk. The empty glass was on the
+table. He would eat nothing at mid-day. He turned from food, and left
+the room for his own chamber.
+
+Judith was anxious. She more than once endeavored to draw Coppinger
+into conversation relative to himself, but he would not speak of what
+affected him. He was annoyed and ashamed at being out of his usual
+rude health.
+
+"It is naught," he said, "but a bilious attack, and will pass. Leave
+me alone."
+
+She had been so busy all day, that she had seen little of Jamie. He
+had taken advantage of Captain Coppinger not being about, to give
+himself more license to roam than he had of late, and to go with his
+donkey on the cliffs. Anyhow Judith on this day did not have him
+hanging to her skirts. She was glad of it, for, though she loved him,
+he would have been an encumbrance when she was so busy.
+
+The last thing at night she did was to go to Coppinger to inquire what
+he would take. He desired nothing but spirits and milk. He thought
+that a milk-punch would give him ease and make him sleep. That he was
+weak and had suffered pain she saw, and she was full of pity for him.
+But this she did not like to exhibit, partly because he might
+misunderstand her feelings, and partly because he seemed irritated at
+being unwell, and at loss of power; irritated, at all events, at it
+being observed that he was not in his usual plenitude of strength and
+health.
+
+That night the Atlantic was troubled, and the wind carried the billows
+against the cliffs in a succession of rhythmic roars that filled the
+air with sound and made the earth quiver. Judith could not sleep, she
+listened to the thud of the water-heaps flung against the rocks; there
+was a clock on the stairs and in her wakefulness she listened to the
+tick of the clock, and the boom of the waves, now coming together,
+then one behind the other, now the wave-beat catching up the
+clock-tick, then falling in arrear, the ocean getting angry and making
+up its pace by a double beat. Moreover flakes of foam were carried on
+the wind and came, like snow, against her window that looked seaward
+striking the glass and adhering to it.
+
+As Judith lay watchful in the night her mind again recurred to the
+packet of arsenic that had been abstracted from her workbox. It was
+inconsiderate of her to have left it there; she ought to have locked
+her box. But who could have supposed that anyone would have gone to
+the box, raised the tray and searched the contents of the compartment
+beneath? Judith had been unaccustomed to lock up anything, because she
+had never had any secrets to hide from any eye. She again considered
+the probability of her aunt having removed it, and then it occurred to
+her that perhaps Miss Trevisa might have supposed that she--Judith--in
+a fit of revolt against the wretchedness of her life might be induced
+to take the poison herself and finish her miseries. "It was absurd if
+Aunt Dunes thought that," said Judith to herself; "she can little have
+known how my dear Papa's teaching has sunk into my heart, to suppose
+me capable of such a thing--and then--to run away like a coward and
+leave Jamie unprotected. It was too absurd."
+
+Next morning Judith was in her room getting a large needle with which
+to hem a bit of carpet edge that had been fraying for the last five
+years, and which no one had thought of putting a thread to, and so
+arresting the disintegration. Jamie was in the room. Judith said to
+him:
+
+"My dear, you have not been skinning and stuffing any birds lately,
+have you?"
+
+"No, Ju."
+
+"Because I have missed--but, Jamie, I hope you have not been at my
+workbox?"
+
+"What about your workbox, Ju?"
+
+She knew the boy so well, that her suspicions were at once aroused by
+this answer. When he had nothing to hide he replied with a direct
+negative or affirmative, but when he had done what his conscience
+would not quite allow was right, he fell into equivocation, and
+shuffled awkwardly.
+
+"Jamie," said Judith, looking him straight in the face, "have you been
+to my box?"
+
+"Only just looked in."
+
+Then he ran to the window. "Oh, do see, Ju, how patched the glass is
+with foam!--and is it not dirty?"
+
+"Jamie, come back. I want an answer."
+
+He had opened the casement and put his hand out and was wiping off the
+patches of froth.
+
+"What a lot of it there is, Ju."
+
+"Come here, instantly, Jamie, and shut the window."
+
+The boy obeyed, creeping toward her sideways, with his head down.
+
+"Jamie, did you lift the tray?"
+
+"Only on one side, just a little bit."
+
+"Did you take anything from under the tray?"
+
+He did not answer immediately. She looked at him searchingly and in
+suspense. He never could endure this questioning look of hers, and he
+ran to her, put his arms round her waist, and clasped to her side, hid
+his face in her gown.
+
+"Only a little."
+
+"A little what?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Jamie, no lies. There was a blue paper there containing poison, that
+you were not to have unless there were occasion for it--some bird skin
+to be preserved and dressed with it. Now, did you take that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Go and bring it back to me immediately."
+
+"I can't."
+
+"Why not? Where is it?"
+
+The boy fidgeted, looked up in his sister's face to see what
+expression it bore, buried his head again, and said:
+
+"Ju! he is rightly called Cruel. I hate him, and so do you, don't you,
+Ju? I have put the arsenic into his oatmeal, and we will get rid of
+him and be free and go away. It will be jolly."
+
+"Jamie!" with a cry of horror.
+
+"He won't whip me and scold you any more."
+
+"Jamie! Oh, my Lord, have pity on him! have pity on us!"
+
+She clasped her hands to her head, rushed from the room, and flew down
+the stairs.
+
+But ten minutes before that Judith had given Coppinger his bowl of
+porridge. He had risen late that morning. He was better, he said, and
+he looked more himself than the preceding day. He was now seated at
+the table in the hall, and had poured the fresh milk into the bowl,
+had dipped the spoon, put some of the porridge to his mouth, tasted,
+and was looking curiously into the spoon, when the door was flung
+open, Judith entered, and without a word of explanation, caught the
+bowl from him and dashed it on the floor.
+
+Coppinger looked at her with his boring, dark eyes intently, and said:
+"What is the meaning of this?"
+
+"It is poisoned."
+
+Judith was breathless. She drew back relieved at having cast away the
+fatal mess.
+
+Coppinger rose to his feet, and glared at her across the table,
+leaning with his knuckles on the board. He did not speak for a moment,
+his face became livid, and his hands resting on the table shook as
+though he were shivering in an ague.
+
+"There is arsenic in the porridge," gasped Judith.
+
+She had not time to weigh what she should say, how explain her
+conduct; but one thought had held her--to save Coppinger's life while
+there was yet time.
+
+The Captain's dog that had been lying at his master's feet rose, went
+to the spilt porridge, and began to lap the milk and devour the paste.
+Neither Judith nor Coppinger regarded him.
+
+"It was an accident," faltered Judith.
+
+"You lie," said Coppinger, in thrilling tones, "you lie, you
+murderess! You sought to kill me."
+
+Judith did not answer for a moment. She also was trembling. She had to
+resolve what course to pursue. She could not, she would not, betray
+her brother, and subject him to the worst brutality of treatment from
+the infuriated man whose life he had sought.
+
+It were better for her to take the blame on herself.
+
+"I made the porridge--I and no one else."
+
+"You told me so, yesterday." He maintained his composure marvellously,
+but he was stunned by the sudden discovery of treachery in the woman
+he had loved and worshipped.
+
+"You maddened me by your treatment, but I did not desire that you
+should die. I repented and have saved your life."
+
+As Judith spoke she felt as though the flesh of her face stiffened,
+and the skin became as parchment. She could hardly open her mouth to
+speak and stir her tongue.
+
+"Go!" said Coppinger, pointing to the door. "Go, you and your brother.
+Othello cottage is empty. Go, murderess, poisoner of your husband,
+there and wait till you hear from me. Under one roof, to eat off one
+board, is henceforth impossible. Go!" he remained pointing, and a
+sulphurous fire flickered in his eyes.
+
+Then the hound began to howl, threw itself down, its limbs were
+contracted, it foamed at the mouth, and howled again.
+
+To the howlings of the poisoned and dying dog Judith and Jamie left
+Pentyre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+FAST IN HIS HANDS.
+
+
+Judith and Jamie were together in Othello Cottage--banished from
+Pentyre with a dark and threatening shadow over them, but this,
+however, gave the boy but little concern; he was delighted to be away
+from a house where he had been in incessant terror, and where he was
+under restraint; moreover, it was joy to him to be now where he need
+not meet Coppinger at every turn.
+
+Judith forbade his going to Polzeath to see Uncle Zachie and Oliver
+Menaida, as she thought it advisable, under the circumstances, to keep
+themselves to themselves, and above all not to give further occasion
+for the suspicions and jealousy of Coppinger. This was to her, under
+the present condition of affairs, specially distressing, as she needed
+some counsel as to what she should do. Uncle Zachie at his best was a
+poor adviser, but on no account now would she appeal to his son. She
+was embarrassed and alarmed. And she had excuse for embarrassment and
+alarm. She had taken upon herself the attempt that had been made on
+the life of Coppinger, and he would, she supposed, believe her to be
+guilty.
+
+What would he do? Would he proceed against her for attempted murder?
+If so, the case against her was very complete. It could be shown that
+Mr. Menaida had given her this arsenic, that she had kept it by her in
+her workbox while at the Glaze, that she had been on the most
+unsatisfactory terms with Captain Coppinger, and that she had refused
+to complete her marriage with him by appending her signature to the
+register. She was now aware--and the thought made her feel sick at
+heart and faint--that her association with the Menaidas had been most
+injudicious and had been capable of misinterpretation. It had been
+misinterpreted by Coppinger, and probably also by the gossips of
+Polzeath. It could be shown that a secret correspondence had been
+carried on between her and Oliver, which had been intercepted by her
+husband. This was followed immediately by the attempt to poison
+Coppinger. The arsenic had been given him in the porridge her own
+hands had mixed, and which had been touched by no one else. It was
+natural to conclude that she had deliberately purposed to destroy her
+husband, that she might be free to marry Oliver Menaida.
+
+If she were prosecuted on the criminal charge of attempted murder, the
+case could be made so conclusive against her that her conviction was
+certain.
+
+Her only chance of escape lay in two directions--one that she should
+tell the truth, and allow Jamie to suffer the consequences of what he
+had done, which would be prison or a lunatic asylum. The other was
+that she should continue to screen him and trust that Coppinger would
+not prosecute her. He might hesitate about proceeding with such a
+case, which would attract attention to himself, to his household, and
+lay bare to the public eye much that he would reasonably be supposed
+to wish to keep concealed. If, for instance, the case were brought
+into court the story of the enforced marriage must come out, and that
+would rake up once more the mystery of the wreckers on Doom Bar, and
+of Lady Knighton's jewels. Coppinger might and probably would grasp at
+the other alternative--take advantage of the incompletion of the
+marriage, repudiate her, and let the matter of the poisoned porridge
+remain untouched.
+
+The more Judith turned the matter over in her head the more sure she
+became that the best course, indeed the only one in which safety lay,
+was for her to continue to assume to herself the guilt of the attempt
+on Coppinger's life. He would see by her interference the second time,
+and prevention of his taking a second portion of the arsenic, that she
+did not really seek his life, but sought to force him, through
+personal fear, to drive her from his house and break the bond by which
+he bound her to him. For the sake of this going back from a purpose of
+murder, or from thinking that she had never intended to do more than
+drive him to a separation by alarm for his own safety; for the sake of
+the old love he had borne her, he might forbear pressing this matter
+to its bitter consequences, and accept what she desired--their
+separation.
+
+But if Judith allowed the truth to come out, then her husband would
+have no such compunction. It would be an opportunity for him to get
+rid of the boy he detested, and even if he did not have him consigned
+to jail, then it would be only because he would send him to an asylum.
+
+Judith went out on the cliffs. The sea was troubled, far as the
+horizon, strewn with white horses shaking their manes, pawing and
+prancing in their gallop landward. There was no blue, no greenness in
+the ocean now. The dull tinctures of winter were in it. The Atlantic
+wore its scowl, was leaden and impatient. The foam on the rocks was
+driven up in spouts into the air and carried over the downs, it caught
+in the thorn bushes like flocks of wool, and was no cleaner. It lay
+with the thin melting snow and melted with it into a dirty slush. It
+plastered the face of Othello Cottage as though, in brutal insolence,
+Ocean had been spitting at the house that was built of the wreck he
+had failed to gulp down, though he had chewed the life out of it. The
+foam rested in flakes on the rushes where it hung and fluttered like
+tufts of cotton-grass. It was dropped about by the wind for miles
+inland as though the wind were running in a paper chase. It was as
+though sky and sea were contending in a game of pelting the land, the
+one with snow, the other with foam, the one sweet, the other salt.
+Judith walked where, near the edge of the cliffs, there was no snow,
+and looked out at the angry ocean. All without was cold, rugged,
+ruffled, wretched; and within her heart burned a fire of apprehension,
+distress, almost of despair. All at once she came upon Mr. Desiderius
+Mules, walking in an opposite direction, engaged in wiping the
+foam-flakes out of his eyes.
+
+"Halloo! you here Mrs. Coppinger?" exclaimed the rector; "glad to see
+you. I'm not here like S. Anthony preaching to the fishes, because I
+am a practical man. In the first place, in such a disturbed sea the
+fishes would have enough to do to look after themselves and would be
+ill-disposed to lend me an ear. In the next place the wind is on
+shore, and they would not hear me were I to lift up my voice. So I
+don't waste words and over-strain my larynx. If the bishop were a mile
+or a mile and a half inland, it might be different, he might admire my
+zeal. And what brings you here?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Mules!" exclaimed Judith, with a leap of hope in her
+heart--here was someone who might if he would be a help to her. She
+had indeed made up her own mind as to what was the safest road on
+which to set her feet, but she was timid, shrank from falsehood, and
+earnestly craved for someone to whom she could speak, and from whom
+she could obtain advice.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Mules! will you give me some advice and assistance?"
+
+"Advice, by all means," said the rector. "I'll turn and walk your way,
+the froth is blown into my face and stings it. My skin is sensitive,
+so are my eyes. Upon my word, when I get home my face will be as salt
+as if I had flooded it with tears--fancy me crying. What did you say
+you wanted--advice?"
+
+"Advice and assistance."
+
+"Advice you shall have, it is my profession to give it. I mix it with
+pepper and salt and serve it out in soup plates every week--am ready
+with it every day, Mrs. Coppinger. I have buckets of it at your
+disposal, bring your tureen and I'll tip in as much of the broth as
+you want, and may you like it. As to assistance, that is another
+matter. Pecuniary assistance I never give. I am unable to do so. My
+principles stand in the way. I have set up a high standard for myself
+and I stick to it. I never render pecuniary assistance to any one, as
+it demoralizes the receiver. I hope and trust it was not pecuniary
+assistance you wanted."
+
+"No, Mr. Mules--not that, only guidance."
+
+"Oh, guidance! I'm your sign-post, where do you want to go!"
+
+"It is this, sir. I have given poison to Mr. Coppinger."
+
+"Mercy on me!" the rector jumped back and turned much the tinge of the
+foam plasters that were on his face.
+
+"That is to say, I gave him arsenic mixed with his porridge the day
+before yesterday, and it made him very ill. Yesterday----"
+
+"Hush, hush!" said Mr. Mules, "no more of this. This is ghastly. Let
+us say it is hallucination on your part. You are either not right in
+your head or are very wicked. If you please--don't come nearer to me.
+I can hear you quite well, hear a great deal more than pleases me.
+You ask my advice, and I give it: Sign the register, that will set me
+square, and put me in an unassailable position with the public, and
+also, secondarily, it will be to your advantage. You are now a
+nondescript, and a nondescript is objectionable. If you please--you
+will excuse me--I should prefer _not_ standing between you and the
+cliff. There is no knowing what a person who confesses to poisoning
+her husband might do. If it be a case of lunacy--well, more reason
+that I should use precautions. My life is valuable. Come, there is
+only one thing you can do to make me comfortable--sign the register."
+
+"You will not mention what I have told you to anyone?"
+
+"Save and defend us! I speak of it!--I! Come, come, be rational. Sign
+the register and set my mind at ease, that is all I want and ask for,
+and then I wash my hands of you."
+
+Then away went Mr. Desiderius Mules, with the wind catching his coat
+tails, twisting them, throwing them up against his back, parting them,
+and driving them one on each of him, taking and cutting them and
+sending them between his legs.
+
+Judith stood mournfully looking after him. The sign-post, as he had
+called himself was flying from the traveller whom it was his duty to
+direct.
+
+Then a hand was laid on her arm. She started, turned and saw Oliver
+Menaida, flushed with rapid walking and with the fresh air he had
+encountered.
+
+"I have come to see you," he said. "I have come to offer you my
+father's and my assistance. We have just heard----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"That Captain Coppinger has turned you and Jamie out of his house."
+
+"Have you heard any reason assigned?"
+
+"Because--so it is said--he had beaten the boy, and you were incensed,
+angry words passed--and it ended in a rupture."
+
+"That, then, is the common explanation?"
+
+"Everyone is talking about it. Everyone says that. And now, what will
+you do?"
+
+"Thank you. Jamie and I are at Othello Cottage, where we are
+comfortable. My aunt had furnished it intending to reside in it
+herself. As for our food, we receive that from the Glaze."
+
+"But this cannot continue."
+
+"It must continue for a while."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"The future is not open to my eyes."
+
+"Judith, that has taken place at length which I have been long
+expecting."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"This miserable condition of affairs has reached its climax, and there
+has been a turn."
+
+Judith sighed. "It has taken a turn, indeed."
+
+"Now that Captain Coppinger has been brought to his senses, and he
+sees that your resolve is not to be shaken, and he releases you, or
+you have released yourself from the thraldom you have been in. I do
+not suppose the popular account of the matter is true, wholly."
+
+"It is not at all true."
+
+"That matters not. The fact remains that you are out of Pentyre Glaze
+and your own mistress. The snare is broken and you are delivered."
+
+Again Judith sighed, and she shook her head despondingly.
+
+"You are free," persisted Oliver, "just consider. You were hurried
+through a marriage when insensible, and when you came to consciousness
+you did what was the only thing you could do--you absolutely refused
+your signature that would validate what had taken place. That was
+conclusive. That ceremony was as worthless as this sea-foam that blows
+by. No court in the world would hold that you were bound by it. The
+consent, the free consent, of each party in such a convention is
+essential. As to your being at Pentyre, nothing against that can be
+alleged; Miss Trevisa was your aunt and constituted your guardian by
+your father. Your place was by her. To her you went when my father's
+house was no longer at your service through my return. At Pentyre you
+remained as long as Miss Trevisa was there. She went, and at once you
+left the house."
+
+"You do not understand."
+
+"Excuse me, I think I do. But no matter as to details. When your aunt
+went, you went also--as was proper under the circumstances. We have
+heard, I do not know whether it be true, that your aunt has come in
+for a good property."
+
+"For a little something."
+
+"Then, shall you go to her and reside with her?"
+
+"No; she will not have Jamie and me."
+
+"So we supposed. Now my father has a proposal to make. The firm to
+which I belong has been good enough to take me into partnership,
+esteeming my services far higher than they deserve, and I am to live
+at Oporto, and act for them there. As my income will now be far larger
+than my humble requirements, I have resolved to allow my dear father
+sufficient for him to live upon comfortably where he wills, and he has
+elected to follow me, and take up his abode in Portugal. Now what he
+has commissioned me to say is--will you go with him? Will you continue
+to regard him as Uncle Zachie, and be to him as his dear little niece,
+and keep house for him in the sunny southern land?"
+
+Judith's eyes filled with tears.
+
+"And Jamie is included in the invitation. He is to come also, and help
+my father to stuff the birds of Portugal. A new ornithological field
+is opening before him, he says and he must have help in it."
+
+"I cannot," said Judith, in a low tone, with her head sunk on her
+breast. "I cannot leave here till Captain Coppinger gives me leave."
+
+"But, surely, you are no longer bound to him?"
+
+"He holds me faster than before."
+
+"I cannot understand this."
+
+"No; because you do not know all."
+
+"Tell me the whole truth. Let me help you. Let my father help you. You
+little know how we both have our hearts in your service."
+
+"Well, I will tell you."
+
+But she hesitated and trembled. She fixed her eyes on the wild,
+foaming, leaden sea, and pressed her bosom with both hands.
+
+"I poisoned him."
+
+"Judith!"
+
+"It is true, I gave him arsenic, once; that your father had let me
+have for Jamie. If he had taken it the second time, when I offered it
+him in his bowl of porridge, he would be dead now. Do you see--he
+holds me in his hands and I cannot stir. I could not escape till I
+know what he intends to do with me. Now go--leave me to my fate."
+
+"Judith--it is not true! Though I hear this from your lips I will not
+believe it. No; you need my father's, you need my help more than
+ever." He put her hand to his lips. "It is white--innocent. I _know_
+it, in spite of your words."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+TWO ALTERNATIVES.
+
+
+When Judith returned to Othello Cottage, she was surprised to see a
+man promenading around it, flattening his nose at the window, so as to
+bring his eyes against the glass, then, finding that the breath from
+his nostrils dimmed the pane, wiping the glass and again flattening
+his nose. At first he held his hands on the window-ledge, but being
+incommoded by the refraction of the light, put his open hands against
+the pane, one on each side of his face. Having satisfied himself at
+one casement, he went to another, and made the same desperate efforts
+to see in at that.
+
+Judith coming up to the door, and putting the key in, disturbed him,
+he started, turned, and with a nose much like putty, but rapidly
+purpling with returned circulation, disclosed the features of Mr.
+Scantlebray, Senior.
+
+"Ah, ha!" said that gentleman, in no way disconcerted; "here I have
+you, after having been looking for my orphing charmer in every
+direction but the right one. With your favor I will come inside and
+have a chat."
+
+"Excuse me," said Judith, "but I do not desire to admit visitors."
+
+"But I am an exception. I'm the man who should have looked after your
+interests, and would have done it a deal better than others. And so
+there has been a rumpus, eh? What about?"
+
+"I really beg your pardon, Mr. Scantlebray, but I am engaged and
+cannot ask you to enter, nor delay conversing with you on the
+doorstep."
+
+"Oh, Jimminy! don't consider me. I'll stand on the doorstep and talk
+with you inside. Don't consider me; go on with what you have to do and
+let me amuse you. It must be dull and solitary here, but I will
+enliven you, though I have not my brother's gifts. Now, Obadiah is a
+man with a genius for entertaining people. He missed his way when he
+started in life; he would have made a comic actor. Bless your simple
+heart, had that man appeared on the boards, he would have brought the
+house down--"
+
+"I have no doubt whatever he missed his way when he took to keeping an
+asylum," said Judith.
+
+"We have all our gifts," said Scantlebray. "Mine is architecture, and
+'pon my honor as a gentleman, I do admire the structure of Othello
+Cottage, uncommon. You won't object to my pulling out my tape and
+taking the plan of the edifice, will you?"
+
+"The house belongs to Captain Coppinger; consult him."
+
+"My dear orphing, not a bit. I'm not on the best terms with that gent.
+There lies a tract of ruffled water between us. Not that I have given
+him cause for offence, but that he is not sweet upon me. He took off
+my hands the management of your affairs in the valuation business, and
+let me tell you--between me and you and that post yonder"--he walked
+in and laid his hand on a beam--"that he mismanaged it confoundedly.
+He is your husband, I am well aware, and I ought not to say this to
+you. He took the job into his hands because he had an eye to you, I
+knew that well enough. But he hadn't the gift--the faculty. Now I have
+made all that sort of thing my specialty. How many rooms have you in
+this house? What does that door lead to?"
+
+"Really, Mr. Scantlebray, you must excuse me; I am busy."
+
+"O, yes--vastly busy. Walking on the cliffs, eh! Alone, eh? Well, mum
+is the word. Come, make me your friend and tell me all about it. How
+came you here? There are all kind of stories afloat about the quarrel
+between you and your husband, and he is an Eolus, a Blustering Boreas,
+all the winds in one box. Not surprised. He blew up a gale against me
+once. Domestic felicity is a fable of the poets. Home is a region of
+cyclones, tornadoes, hurricanes--what you like; anything but a Pacific
+Ocean. Now, you won't mind my throwing an eye round this house, will
+you--a scientific eye? Architecture is my passion."
+
+"Mr. Scantlebray, that is my bedroom; I forbid you touching the
+handle. Excuse me--but I must request you to leave me in peace."
+
+"My dear creature," said Scantlebray, "scientific thirst before all.
+It is unslakable save by the acquisition of what it desires. The
+structure of this house, as well as its object, has always been a
+puzzle to me. So your aunt was to have lived here--the divine, the
+fascinating Dionysia, as I remember her years ago. It wasn't built for
+the lovely Dionysia, was it? No. Then for what object was it built?
+And why so long untenanted? These are nuts for you to crack."
+
+"I do not trouble myself about these questions. I must pray you to
+depart."
+
+"In half the twinkle of an eye," said Scantlebray. Then he seated
+himself. "Come, you haven't a superabundance of friends. Make me one
+and unburden your soul to me. What is it all about? Why are you here?
+What has caused this squabble? I have a brother a solicitor at Bodmin.
+Let me jot down the items, and we'll get a case out of it. Trust me as
+a friend, and I'll have you righted. I hear Miss Trevisa has come in
+for a fortune. Be a good girl, set your back against her and show
+fight."
+
+"I will thank you to leave the house," said Judith, haughtily. "A
+moment ago you made reference to your honor as a gentleman. I must
+appeal to that same honor which you pride yourself on possessing, and,
+by virtue of that, request you to depart."
+
+"I'll go, I'll go. But, my dear child, why are you in such a hurry to
+get rid of me? Are you expecting some one? It is an odd thing, but as
+I came along I was overtaken by Mr. Oliver Menaida, making his way to
+the downs--to look at the sea, which is rough, and inhale the breeze
+of the ocean, of course. At one time, I am informed, you made daily
+visits to Polzeath, daily visits while Captain Coppinger was on the
+sea. Since his return, I am informed, these visits have been
+discontinued. Is it possible that instead of your visiting Mr. Oliver,
+Mr. Oliver is now visiting you--here, in this cottage?"
+
+A sudden slash across the back and shoulders made Mr. Scantlebray jump
+and bound aside. Coppinger had entered, and was armed with a stout
+walking-stick.
+
+"What brings you here?" he asked.
+
+"I came to pay my respects to the grass-widow," sneered Scantlebray,
+as he sidled to the door and bolted, but not till, with a face full of
+malignity, he had shaken his fist at Coppinger, behind his back.
+
+"What brings this man here?" asked the Captain.
+
+"Impertinence--nothing else," answered Judith.
+
+"What was that he said about Oliver Menaida?"
+
+"His insolence will not bear reporting."
+
+"You are right. He is a cur, and deserves to be kicked, not spoken to
+or spoken of. I heed him not. There is in him a grudge against me. He
+thought at one time that I would have taken his daughter--do you
+recall speaking to me once about the girl that you supposed was a fit
+mate for me! I laughed--I thought you had heard the chatter about
+Polly Scantlebray and me. A bold, fine girl, full of blood as a cherry
+is full of juice--one of the stock--but with better looks than the
+men, yet with the assurance, the effrontery of her father. A girl to
+laugh and talk with, not to take to one's heart. I care for Polly
+Scantlebray! Not I! That man has never forgiven me the disappointment
+because I did not take her. I never intended to. I despised her. Now
+you know all. Now you see why he hates me. I do not care. I am his
+match. But I will not have him insolent to you. What did he say?"
+
+It was a relief to Judith that Captain Coppinger had not heard the
+words that Mr. Scantlebray had used. They would have inflamed his
+jealousy, and fired him into fury against the speaker.
+
+"He told me that he had been passed, on his way hither, by Mr. Oliver
+Menaida, coming to the cliffs to inhale the sea air and look at the
+angry ocean."
+
+Captain Coppinger was satisfied, or pretended to be so. He went to the
+door and shut it, but not till he had gone outside and looked round to
+see, so Judith thought, whether Oliver Menaida were coming that way,
+quite as much as to satisfy himself that Mr. Scantlebray was not
+lurking round a corner listening.
+
+No! Oliver Menaida would not come there. Of that Judith was quite
+sure. He had the delicacy of mind and the good sense not to risk her
+reputation by approaching Othello Cottage. When he had made that offer
+to her she had known that his own heart spoke, but he had veiled its
+speech and had made the offer as from his father, and in such a way as
+not to offend her. Only when she had accused herself of attempted
+murder did he break through his reserve to show her his rooted
+confidence in her innocence, in spite of her confession.
+
+When the door was fast, Coppinger came over to Judith, and, standing
+at a little distance from her, said:
+
+"Judith, look at me."
+
+She raised her eyes to him. He was pale and his face lined, but he had
+recovered greatly since that day when she had seen him suffering from
+the effects of the poison.
+
+"Judith," said he, "I know all."
+
+"What do you know?"
+
+"You did not poison me."
+
+"I mixed and prepared the bowl for you."
+
+"Yes--but the poison had been put into the oatmeal before, not by you,
+not with your knowledge."
+
+She was silent. She was no adept at lying; she could not invent
+another falsehood to convince him of her guilt.
+
+"I know how it all came about," pursued Captain Coppinger. "The cook,
+Jane, has told me. Jamie came into the kitchen with a blue paper in
+his hand, asked for the oatmeal, and put in the contents of the paper
+so openly as not in the least to arouse suspicion. Not till I was
+taken ill and made inquiries did the woman connect his act with what
+followed. I have found the blue paper, and on it it is written, in Mr.
+Menaida's handwriting, which I know, 'Arsenic. Poison: for Jamie, only
+to be used for the dressing of bird-skins, and a limited amount to be
+served to him at a time.' Now I am satisfied, because I know your
+character, and because I saw innocence in your manner when you came
+down to me on the second occasion, and dashed the bowl from my lips--I
+saw then that you were innocent."
+
+Judith said nothing. Her eyes rested on the ground.
+
+"I had angered that fool of a boy, I had beaten him. In a fit of
+sullen revenge, and without calculating either how best to do it, or
+what the consequences would be, he went to the place where he knew the
+arsenic was--Mr. Menaida had impressed on him the danger of playing
+with the poison--and he abstracted it. But he had not the wit or
+cunning generally present in idiots----"
+
+"He is no idiot," said Judith.
+
+"No, in fools," said Coppinger, "to put the poison into the oatmeal
+secretly when no one was in the kitchen. He asked the cook for the
+meal and mingled the contents of the paper into it so openly as to
+disarm suspicion."
+
+He paused for Judith to speak, but she did not.
+
+He went on: "Then you, in utter guilelessness, prepared my breakfast
+for me, as instructed by Miss Trevisa. Next morning you did the same,
+but were either suspicious of evil through missing the paper from your
+cabinet, or drawer, or wherever you kept it, or else Jamie confessed
+to you what he had done. Thereupon you rushed to me to save me from
+taking another portion. I do not know that I would have taken it; I
+had formed a half-suspicion from the burning sensation in my throat,
+and from what I saw in the spoon--but there was no doubt in my mind
+after the first discovery that you were guiltless. I sought the whole
+matter out, as far as I was able. Jamie is guilty--not you."
+
+"And," said Judith, drawing a long breath, "what about Jamie?"
+
+"There are two alternatives," said Coppinger; "the boy is dangerous.
+Never again shall he come under my roof."
+
+"No," spoke Judith, "no, he must not go to the Glaze again. Let him
+remain here with me. I will take care of him that he does mischief to
+no one. He would never have hurt you had not you hurt him. Forgive
+him, because he was aggravated to it by the unjust and cruel treatment
+he received."
+
+"The boy is a mischievous idiot," said Coppinger; "he must not be
+allowed to be at large."
+
+"What, then, are your alternatives?"
+
+"In the first place, I propose to send him back to that establishment
+whence he should never have been released, to Scantlebray's Asylum."
+
+"No--no--no!" gasped Judith. "You do not know what that place is. I
+do. I got into it. I saw how Jamie had been treated."
+
+"He cannot be treated too severely. He is dangerous. You refuse this
+alternative?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, I do."
+
+"Very well. Then I put the matter in the hands of justice, and he is
+proceeded against and convicted as having attempted my life with
+poison. To jail he will go."
+
+It was as Judith had feared. There were but two destinations for
+Jamie, her dear, dear brother, the son of that blameless father--jail
+or an asylum.
+
+"Oh, no! no--no! not that!" cried Judith.
+
+"One or the other. I give you six hours to choose," said Coppinger.
+Then he went to the door, opened it, and stood looking seaward.
+Suddenly he started, "Ha! the Black Prince." He turned in the door and
+said to Judith: "One hour after sunset come to Pentyre Glaze. Come
+alone, and tell me your decision. I will wait for that."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+NOTHING LIKE GROG.
+
+
+The Black Prince had been observed by Oliver Menaida. He did not know
+for certain that the vessel he saw in the offing was the smuggler's
+ship, but he suspected it, as he knew that Coppinger was in daily
+expectation of her arrival. He brought his father to the cliffs, and
+the old man at once identified her.
+
+Oliver considered what was to be done.
+
+A feint was to be made at a point lower down the coast so as to
+attract the coast-guard in that direction; whereas, she was to run for
+Pentyre as soon as night fell, with all lights hidden, and to
+discharge her cargo in the little cove.
+
+Oliver knew pretty well who was confederate with Coppinger, or were in
+his employ. His father was able to furnish him with a good deal of
+information, not perhaps very well authenticated, all resting on
+gossip. He resolved to have a look at these men, and observe whether
+they were making preparations to assist Coppinger in clearing the
+Black Prince the moment she arrived off the cove. But he found that he
+had not far to look. They were drawn to the cliffs one after another
+to observe the distant vessel.
+
+Oliver now made his way to the coast-guard station, and to reach it
+went round by Wadebridge, and this he did because he wished to avoid
+being noticed going to the Preventive Station across the estuary at
+the Doom Bar above St. Enodoc. On reaching his destination he was
+shown into an ante-room, where he had to wait some minutes, because
+the captain happened to be engaged. He had plenty to occupy his mind.
+There was that mysterious confession of Judith that she had tried to
+poison the man who persisted in considering himself as her husband, in
+spite of her resistance, and who was holding her in a condition of
+bondage in his house. Oliver did not for a moment believe that she
+had intentionally sought his life. He had seen enough of her to gauge
+her character, and he knew that she was incapable of committing a
+crime. That she might have given poison in ignorance and by accident
+was possible; how this had happened it was in vain for him to attempt
+to conjecture; he could, however, quite believe that an innocent and
+sensitive conscience like that of Judith might feel the pangs of
+self-reproach when hurt had come to Coppinger through her negligence.
+
+Oliver could also believe that the smuggler captain attributed her act
+to an evil motive. He was not the man to believe in guilelessness, and
+when he found that he had been partly poisoned by the woman whom he
+daily tortured almost to madness, he would at once conclude that a
+premeditated attempt had been made on his life. What course would he
+pursue? Would he make this wretched business public and bring a
+criminal action against the unfortunate and unhappy girl who was
+linked to him against her will?
+
+Oliver saw that if he could obtain Coppinger's arrest on some such a
+charge as smuggling, he might prevent this scandal, and save Judith
+from much humiliation and misery. He was therefore most desirous to
+effect the capture of Coppinger at once and _flagrante delicto_.
+
+As he waited in the ante-room a harsh voice within was audible which
+he recognized as that of Mr. Scantlebray. Presently the door was half
+opened, and he heard the coast-guard captain say:
+
+"I trust you rewarded the fellow for his information. You may apply to
+me----"
+
+"O royally, royally."
+
+"And for furnishing you with the code of signals?"
+
+"Imperially--imperially."
+
+"That is well--never underpay in these matters."
+
+"Do not fear! I emptied my pockets. And as to the information you have
+received through me--rely on it as you would on the Bank of England."
+
+"You have been deceived and befooled," said Oliver, unable to resist
+the chance of delivering a slap at a man for whom he entertained a
+peculiar aversion, having heard much concerning him from his father.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"That the shilling you gave the clerk for his information, and the
+half-crown for his signal table were worth what you got--the
+information was false, and was intended to mislead."
+
+Scantlebray colored purple. "What do you know? You know nothing. You
+are in league with them."
+
+"Take care what you say," said Oliver.
+
+"I maintain," said Scantlebray, somewhat cowed by his demeanor, "that
+what I have said to the captain here is something of which you know
+nothing--and which is of importance to him to know."
+
+"And I maintain that you have been hoodwinked," answered Oliver. "But
+it matters not. The event will prove which of us is on the right
+track."
+
+"Yes," laughed Scantlebray, "so be it; and let me bet you, Captain,
+and you Mr. Oliver Menaida--that I am on the scent of something else.
+I believe I know where Coppinger keeps his stores, and--but you shall
+see, and Captain Cruel also, ha, ha!"
+
+Rubbing his hands he went out.
+
+Then Oliver begged a word with the Preventive captain, and told him
+what he had overheard, and also that he knew where was the cave in
+which the smugglers had their boat and to which they ran the cargo
+first, before removing it to their inland stores.
+
+"I'm not so certain the Black Prince dare venture nigh the coast
+to-night," said the Captain, "because of the sea and the on-shore
+wind. But the glass is rising and the wind may change. Then she'll
+risk it for certain. Now, look you here. I can't go with you myself
+to-night, because I must be here; and I can only let you have six
+men."
+
+"That will suffice."
+
+"Under Wyvill. I cannot, of course, put them under you, but Wyvill
+shall command. He bears a grudge against Coppinger, and will be
+rejoiced to have the chance of paying it out. But, mind you, it is
+possible that the Black Prince dare not run in, because of the
+weather, at Pentyre Cove, she may run somewhere else, either down the
+coast or higher up. Coppinger has other ovens than one. You know the
+term. His store-places are ovens. We can't find them, but we know that
+there are several of them along the coast, just as there are a score
+of landing-places. When one is watched, then another is used, and
+that is how we are thrown out. There are plenty of folk interested in
+defrauding the revenue in every parish between Hartland and Land's
+End, and let the Black Prince, or any other smuggling vessel appear
+where she will, there she has ready helpers to shore her cargo, and
+convey it to the ovens. When we appear it is signalled at once to the
+vessel, and she runs away up or down the coast, and discharges
+somewhere else, before we can reach the point. Now, I do not say that
+what you tell me is not true, and that it is not Coppinger's intent to
+land the goods in the Pentyre Cove, but if we are smelt, or if the
+wind or sea forbid a landing there, away goes the Black Prince and
+runs her cargo somewhere else. That is why I cannot accompany you, nor
+can I send you with more than half a dozen men. I must be on the look
+out, and I must be prepared in the event of her coming suddenly back
+and attempting to land her goods at Porth-leze, or Constantine, or
+Harlyn. What you shall do is--remain here with me till near dusk, and
+then you shall have a boat and my men and get round Pentyre, and you
+shall take possession of that cave. You shall take with you provisions
+for twenty-four hours. If the Black Prince intends to make that bay
+and discharge there, then she will wait her opportunity. If she cannot
+to-night, she will to-morrow night. Now, seize every man who comes
+into that cave, and don't let him out. You see?"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"Very well. Wyvill shall be in command, and you shall be the guide,
+and I will speak to him to pay proper attention to what you recommend.
+You see?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Very well--now we shall have something to eat and to drink, which is
+better, and drink that is worth the drinking, which is best of all.
+Here is some cognac, it was run goods that we captured and
+confiscated. Look at it. I wish there were artificial light and you
+would see, it is liquid amber--a liqueur. When you've tasted that,
+ah-ha! you will say, 'Glad I lived to this moment.' There is all the
+difference, my boy, between your best cognac and common brandy--the
+one, the condensed sunshine in the queen of fruit sublimed to an
+essence; the other, coarse, raw fire--all the difference that there is
+between a princess of blood royal and a gypsy wench. Drink and do not
+fear. This is not the stuff to smoke the head and clog the stomach."
+
+When Oliver Menaida finally started, he left the first officer of the
+coast-guard, in spite of his assurances, somewhat smoky in brain, and
+not in the condition to form the clearest estimate of what should be
+done in a contingency. The boat was laden with provisions for
+twenty-four hours, and placed under the command of Wyvill.
+
+The crew had not rowed far before one of them sang out:
+
+"Gearge!"
+
+"Aye, aye, mate!" responded Wyvill.
+
+"I say, Gearge. Be us a going round Pentyre?"
+
+"I reckon we be."
+
+"And wet to the marrowbone we shall be."
+
+"I reckon we shall."
+
+Then a pause in the conversation. Presently from another, "Gearge!"
+
+"Aye, aye, Will!"
+
+"I say Gearge! where be the spirits to? There's a keg o' water, but
+sure alive the spirits be forgotten."
+
+"Bless my body!" exclaimed Wyvill, "I reckon you're right. Here's a
+go."
+
+"It will never do for us to be twenty-four hours wi' salt water
+outside of us and fresh wi'in," said Will. "What's a hat wi'out a head
+in it, or boots wi'out feet in 'em, or a man wi'out spirits in his
+in'ard parts?"
+
+"Dear, alive! 'Tis a nuisance," said Wyvill. "Who's been the idiot to
+forget the spirits?"
+
+"Gearge!"
+
+"Aye, aye, Samson!"
+
+"I say, Gearge! hadn't us better run over to the Rock and get a little
+anker there?"
+
+"I reckon it wouldn't be amiss, mate," responded Wyvill. To Oliver's
+astonishment and annoyance, the boat was turned to run across to a
+little tavern, at what was called "The Rock."
+
+He remonstrated. This was injudicious and unnecessary.
+
+"Onnecessary," said Wyvill. "Why, you don't suppose fire-arms will go
+off wi'out a charge? It's the same wi' men. What's the good of a human
+being unless he be loaded--and what's his proper load but a drop o'
+spirits."
+
+Then one of the rowers sang out:
+
+    "Water-drinkers are dull asses
+      When they're met together.
+    Milk is meat for infancy;
+    Ladies like to sip Bohea;
+    Not such stuff for you and me,
+      When we're met together."
+
+Oliver was not surprised that so few captures were effected on the
+coast, when those set to watch it loved so dearly the very goods they
+were to watch against being imported untaxed.
+
+On reaching the shore, the man Samson and another were left in charge
+of the boat, while Wyvill, Will, and the rest went up to the Rock Inn
+to have a glass for the good of the house, and to lade themselves with
+an anker of brandy which, during their wait in the cave, was to be
+distributed among them. Oliver thought it well to go to the tavern as
+well. He was impatient and thought they would dawdle there, and,
+perhaps, take more than the nip to which they professed themselves
+content to limit themselves. Pentyre Point had to be rounded in rough
+water, and they must be primed to enable them to round Pentyre.
+
+"You see," said Wyvill, who seemed to suppose that some sort of an
+explanation of his conduct was due. "When ropes be dry they be
+terrible slack. Wet 'em and they are taut. It is the same wi' men's
+muscles. We've Pentyre Point to get round. Very strainin' to the arms,
+and I reckon it couldn't be done unless we wetted the muscles. That's
+reason. That's convincin'."
+
+At the Rock Tavern the Preventive men found the clerk of S. Enodoc,
+with his hands in his pockets, on the settle, his legs stretched out
+before him, considering one of his knees that was threadbare, and
+trying to make up his mind whether the trouser would hold out another
+day without a thread being run through the thin portion, and whether
+if a day, then perhaps two days, and if perchance for two days, then
+for three. But if for three, then why not for four! And if for four,
+then possibly for five--anyhow, as far as he could judge, there was no
+immediate call for him to have the right knee of his trouser repaired
+that day.
+
+The sexton-clerk looked up when the party entered, and greeted them
+each man by name, and a conversation ensued relative to the weather.
+Each described his own impressions as to what the weather had been,
+and his anticipations as to what it would be.
+
+"And how's your missus?"
+
+"Middlin'--and yours?"
+
+"Same, thanky'. A little troubled wi' the rheumatics."
+
+"Tell her to take a lump o' sugar wi' five drops o' turpentine."
+
+"I will, thanky"--and so on for half an hour, at the end of which time
+the party thought it time to rise, wipe their mouths, shoulder the
+anker, and return to the boat.
+
+No sooner were they in it, and had thrust off from shore, and prepared
+to make a second start, than Oliver touched Wyvill and said, pointing
+to the land, "Look yonder."
+
+"What!"
+
+"There is that clerk. Running, actually running."
+
+"I reckon he be."
+
+"And in the direction of Pentyre."
+
+"So he be, I reckon."
+
+"And what do you think of that?"
+
+"Nothing," answered Wyvill, confusedly. "Why should I? He can't say
+nothing about where we be going. Not a word of that was said while us
+was there. I don't put no store on his running."
+
+"I do," said Oliver, unable to smother his annoyance. "This folly will
+spoil our game."
+
+Wyvill muttered, "I reckon I'm head of the consarn and not you."
+
+Oliver deemed it advisable, as the words were said low, to pretend
+that he did not hear them.
+
+The wind had somewhat abated, but the sea was running furiously round
+Pentyre. Happily the tide was going out, so that tide and wind were
+conflicting, and this enabled the rowers to get round Pentyre between
+the Point and the Newland Isle, that broke the force of the seas. But
+when past the shelter of Newland, doubling a spur of Pentyre that ran
+to the north, the rowers had to use their utmost endeavors, and had
+not their muscles been moistened they might possibly have declared it
+impossible to proceed. It was advisable to run into the cove just
+after dark, and before the turn of the tide, as, in the event of the
+Black Prince attempting to land her cargo there, it would be made with
+the flow of the tide, and in the darkness.
+
+The cove was reached and found to be deserted. Oliver showed the way,
+and the boat was driven up on the shingle and conveyed into the
+smugglers' cave behind the rock curtain. No one was there. Evidently,
+from the preparations made, the smugglers were ready for the run of
+the cargo that night.
+
+"Now," said Will, one of the Preventive men, "us hev' a' labored
+uncommon. What say you, mates? Does us desarve a drop of refreshment
+or does us not? Every man as does his dooty by his country and his
+king should be paid for 't, is my doctrine. What do y' say, Gearge?
+Sarve out the grog?"
+
+"I reckon yes. Sarve out the grog. There's nothing like grog--I think
+it was Solomon said that, and he was the wisest of men."
+
+"For sure; he made a song about it," said one of the coast-guard. "It
+begins:
+
+    "'A plague of those musty old lubbers,
+      Who tell us to fast and to think.
+    And patient fall in with life's rubbers,
+      With nothing but water to drink.'"
+
+"To be sure," responded Wyvill, "never was a truer word said than when
+Solomon was called the wisest o' men."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+PLAYING FORFEITS.
+
+
+"Here am I once more," said Mr. Scantlebray, walking into Othello
+Cottage with a rap at the door but without waiting for an invitation
+to enter. "Come back like the golden summer, but at a quicker rate.
+How are you all? I left you rather curtly--without having had time to
+pay my proper _conge_."
+
+Judith and Jamie were sitting over the fire. No candle had been
+lighted, for, though a good many things had been brought over to
+Othello Cottage for their use, candles had been forgotten, and Judith
+did not desire to ask for more than was furnished her, certainly not
+to go to the Glaze for the things needed. They had a fire, but not one
+that blazed. It was of drift-wood, that smouldered and would not
+flame, and as it burned emitted a peculiar odor.
+
+Jamie was in good spirits, he chattered and laughed, and Judith made
+pretence that she listened, but her mind was absent, she had cares
+that had demands on every faculty of her mind. Moreover, now and then
+her thoughts drifted off to a picture that busy fancy painted and
+dangled before them--of Portugal, with its woods of oranges, golden
+among the burnished leaves, and its vines hung with purple
+grapes--with its glowing sun, its blue glittering sea--and, above all,
+she mused on the rest from fears, the cessation from troubles which
+would have ensued, had there been a chance for her to accept the offer
+made, and to have left the Cornish coast for ever.
+
+Looking into the glowing ashes, listening to her thoughts as they
+spoke, and seeming to attend to the prattle of the boy, Judith was
+surprised by the entry of Mr. Scantlebray.
+
+"There--disengaged, that is capital," said the agent. "The very thing
+I hoped. And now we can have a talk. You have never understood that I
+was your sincere friend. You have turned from me and looked elsewhere,
+and now you suffer for it. But I am like all the best metal--strong
+and bright to the last; and see--I have come to you now to forewarn
+you, because I thought that if it came on you all at once there would
+be trouble and bother."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Scantlebray. It is true that we are not busy just now,
+but it does not follow that we are disposed for a talk. It is growing
+dark, and we shall lock up the cottage and go to bed."
+
+"Oh, I will not detain you long. Besides I'll take the wish out of
+your heart for bed in one jiffy. Look here--read this. Do you know the
+handwriting?"
+
+He held out a letter. Judith reluctantly took it. She had risen; she
+had not asked Scantlebray to take a seat.
+
+"Yes," she said, "that is the writing of Captain Coppinger."
+
+"A good bold hand," said the agent, "and see here is his seal with his
+motto, _Thorough_. You know that?"
+
+"Yes--it is his seal."
+
+"Now read it."
+
+Judith knelt at the hearth.
+
+"Blow, blow the fire up, my beauty," called Scantlebray to Jamie.
+"Don't you see that your sister wants light, and is running the risk
+of blinding her sweet pretty eyes." Jamie puffed vigorously and sent
+out sparks snapping and blinking, and brought the wood to a white
+glow, by which Judith was able to decipher the letter.
+
+It was a formal order from Cruel Coppinger to Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray
+to remove James Trevisa that evening, after dark, from Othello Cottage
+to his idiot asylum, to remain there in custody till further notice.
+Judith remained kneeling, with her eyes on the letter, after she had
+read it. She was considering. It was clear to her that directly after
+leaving her Captain Coppinger had formed his own resolve, either
+impatient of waiting the six hours he had allowed her, or because he
+thought the alternative of the Asylum the only one that could be
+accepted by her, and it was one that would content himself, as the
+only one that avoided exposure of a scandal. But there were other
+asylums than that of Scantlebray, and others were presumably better
+managed, and those in charge less severe in their dealings. She had
+considered this, as she looked into the fire. But a new idea had also
+at the same time lightened in her mind, and she had a third
+alternative to propose.
+
+She had been waiting for the moment when to go to the Glaze and see
+Coppinger, and just at the moment when she was about to send Jamie to
+bed and leave the house Scantlebray came in.
+
+"Now then," said the agent, "what do you think of me--that I am a real
+friend?"
+
+"I thank you for having told me this," answered Judith, "and now I
+will go to Pentyre. I beg that you will not allow my brother to be
+conveyed away during my absence. Wait till I return. Perhaps Captain
+Coppinger may not insist on the removal at once. If you are a real
+friend, as you profess, you will do this for me."
+
+"I will do it willingly. That I am a real friend I have shown you by
+my conduct. I have come beforehand to break news to you which might
+have been too great and too overwhelming had it come on you suddenly.
+My brother and a man or two will be here in an hour. Go by all means
+to Captain Cruel, but," Scantlebray winked an eye, "I don't myself
+think you will prevail with him."
+
+"I will thank you to remain here for half an hour with Jamie," said
+Judith, coldly. "And to stay all proceedings till my return. If I
+succeed--well. If not, then only a few minutes have been lost. I have
+that to say to Captain Coppinger which may, and I trust will, lead him
+to withdraw that order."
+
+"Rely on me. I am a rock on which you may build," said Scantlebray. "I
+will do my best to entertain your brother, though, alas! I have not
+the abilities of Obadiah, who is a genius, and can keep folks hour by
+hour going from one roar of laughter into another."
+
+No sooner was Judith gone than Scantlebray put his tongue into one
+side of his cheek, clicked, pointed over his shoulder with his thumb,
+and seated himself opposite Jamie on the stool beside the fire which
+had been vacated by Judith. Jamie had understood nothing of the
+conversation that had taken place, his name had not been mentioned,
+and consequently his attention had not been drawn to it away from some
+chestnuts he had found, or which had been given to him, that he was
+baking in the ashes on the hearth.
+
+"Fond of hunting, eh?" asked Scantlebray, stretching his legs and
+rubbing his hands. "You are like me--like to be in at the death. What
+do you suppose I have in my pocket? Why, a fox with a fiery tail.
+Shall we run him to earth? Shall we make an end of him? Tally-ho!
+Tally-ho! here he is. Oh, sly Reynard, I have you by the ears." And
+forth from the tail-pocket of his coat Scantlebray produced a bottle
+of brandy. "What say you, corporal, shall we drink his blood? Bring me
+a couple of glasses and I'll pour out his gore."
+
+"I haven't any," said Jamie. "Ju and I have two mugs, that is all."
+
+"And they will do famously. Here goes--off with the mask!" and with a
+blow he knocked away the head and cork of the bottle. "No more running
+away for you, my beauty, except down our throats. Mugs! That is
+famous. Come, shall we play at army and navy, and the forfeit be a
+drink of Reynard's blood?"
+
+Jamie pricked up his ears; he was always ready for a game of play.
+
+"Look here," said Scantlebray. "You are in the military, I am in the
+nautical line. Each must address the other by some title in accordance
+with the profession each professes, and the forfeit of failure is a
+pull at the bottle. What do you say! I will begin. Set the bottle
+there between us. Now then, Sergeant, they tell me your aunt has come
+in for a fortune. How much? What is the figure, eh?"
+
+"I don't know," responded Jamie, and was at once caught up with
+"Forfeit! forfeit!"
+
+"Oh, by Jimminy, there am I, too, in the same box. Take your swig,
+Commander, and pass to me."
+
+"But what am I to call you?" asked the puzzle-headed boy.
+
+"Mate, or captain, or boatswain, or admiral."
+
+"I can't remember all that."
+
+"Mate will do. Always say mate, whatever you ask or answer. Do you
+understand, General!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Forfeit! forfeit! You should have said 'Yes, mate.'" Mr. Scantlebray
+put his hands to his sides and laughed. "Oh, Jimminy! there am I
+again. The instructor as bad as the pupil. I'm a bad fellow as
+instructor, that I am, Field-Marshal. So--your Aunt Dionysia has come
+in for some thousands of pounds--how many do you think! Have you
+heard?"
+
+"I think I've heard----"
+
+"Mate! Mate!"
+
+"I think I've heard, Mate."
+
+"Now, how many do you remember to have heard named? Was it five
+thousand? That is what I heard named--eh, Captain?"
+
+"Oh, more than that," said Jamie, in his small mind catching at a
+chance of talking-big, "a great lot more than that."
+
+"What, ten thousand?"
+
+"I dare say; yes, I think so."
+
+"Forfeit! forfeit! pull again, Centurion."
+
+"Yes, Mate, I'm sure."
+
+"Ten thousand--why, at five per cent. that's a nice little sum for you
+and Ju to look forward to when the old hull springs a leak and goes to
+the bottom."
+
+"Yes," answered Jamie, vaguely. He could not look beyond the day,
+moreover he did not understand the figurative speech of his comrade.
+
+"Forfeit again, General! But I'll forgive you this time, or you'll get
+so drunk you'll not be able to answer me a question. Bless my legs and
+arms! on that pretty little sum one could afford one's self a new tie
+every Sunday. You will prove a beau and buck indeed some day, Captain
+of Thousands! And then you won't live in this little hole. By the way,
+I hear old Dunes Trevisa, I beg pardon, Field-Marshal Sir James, I
+mean your much respected aunt, Miss Trevisa, has got a charming box
+down by S. Austell. You'll ask me down for the shooting, won't you,
+Commander-in-Chief?"
+
+"Yes, I will," answered Jamie.
+
+"And you'll give me the best bedroom, and will have choice dinners,
+and the best old tawny port, eh?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure," said the boy, flattered.
+
+"Mate! mate! forfeit! and I suppose you'll keep a hunter?"
+
+"I shall have two--three," said Jamie.
+
+"And if I were you, I'd keep a pack of fox-hounds."
+
+"I will."
+
+"That's for the winter, and other hounds for the summer."
+
+"I am sure I will, and wear a red coat."
+
+"Famous! but--there I spare you this time--you forfeited again."
+
+"No, I won't be spared," protested the boy.
+
+"As for a wretched little hole like this Othello Cottage----" said
+Scantlebray. "But, by the bye, you have never shown me over the house.
+How many rooms are there in it, Generalissimo of His Majesty's
+Forces!"
+
+"There's my bedroom there," said Jamie.
+
+"Yes; and that door leads to your sister's?"
+
+"Yes. And there's the kitchen."
+
+"And up-stairs!"
+
+"There's no up-stairs."
+
+"Now, you are very clever--clever. By Ginger, you must be to be
+Commander-in-chief; but 'pon my word, I can't believe that. No
+up-stairs. There must be up-stairs."
+
+"No, there's not."
+
+"But by Jimminy! with such a roof as this house has got, and a little
+round window in the gable. There must be an up-stairs."
+
+"No there's not."
+
+"How do you make that out?"
+
+"Because there are no stairs at all." Then Jamie jumped up, but rolled
+on one side, the brandy he had drunk had made him unsteady. "I'll show
+you mate--mate--yes, mate. There three times now will do for times I
+haven't said it. There--in my room. The floor is rolling; it won't
+stay steady. There are cramps in the wall, no stairs, and so you get
+up to where it all is."
+
+"All what is?"
+
+"Forfeit, forfeit!" shouted Jamie. "Say general or something military.
+I don't know. Ju won't let me go up there; but there's tobacco, for
+one thing."
+
+"Where's a candle, Corporal?"
+
+"There is none. We have no light but the fire." Then Jamie dropped
+back on his stool, unable to keep his legs.
+
+"I am more provident than you. I have a lantern outside, unlighted, as
+I thought I might need it on my return. The nights close in very fast
+and very dark now, eh, Commander?"
+
+Mr. Scantlebray went outside the cottage, looked about him, specially
+directing his eyes toward the Glaze. Then he chuckled and said:
+
+"Sent Miss Judith on a wild goose chase, have I? Ah ha! Captain
+Coppinger, I'll have a little entertainment for you to-night. The
+preventives will snatch your goods at Porth-leze or Constantine, and
+here--behind your back--I'll attend to your store of tobacco and
+whatever else I may find."
+
+Then he returned and going to the fire extracted the candle from the
+lantern and lighted it at a burning log.
+
+"Halloa, Captain of thousands! Going to sleep? There's the bottle. You
+must make up forfeits. You've been dishonest I fear and not paid half.
+That door did you say?"
+
+But Jamie was past understanding a question, and Mr. Scantlebray could
+find out for himself now what he wanted to know. That this house had
+been used by Coppinger as a store for some of the smuggled cargoes he
+had long suspected, but he had never been able to obtain any evidence
+which would justify the coast-guard in applying to the justices for a
+search-warrant. Now he would be able to look about it at his leisure,
+while Judith was absent. He did not suppose Coppinger was at the
+Glaze. He assumed that an attempt would be made, as the clerk of St.
+Enodoc had informed him, to land the cargo of the Black Prince to the
+west of the estuary of the Camel, and he supposed that Coppinger would
+be there to superintend. He had used the letter sent to his brother to
+induce the girl to go to Pentyre, and so leave the cottage clear for
+him to search it.
+
+Now, holding the candle, he entered the bedroom of Jamie, and soon
+perceived the cramps the boy had spoken of that served in place of
+stairs. Above was a door into the attic, whitewashed over, like the
+walls. Mr. Scantlebray climbed, thrust open the door and crept into
+the garret.
+
+"Ah, ha!" said the valuer. "So, so, Captain! I have come on one of
+your lairs at last. And I reckon I will make it warm for you. But, by
+Ginger, it is a pity I can't remove some of what is here."
+
+He prowled about in the roomy loft, searching every corner. There were
+a few small kegs of spirit, but the stores were mostly of tobacco.
+
+In about ten minutes Mr. Scantlebray reappeared in the room where was
+Jamie. He was without his candle. The poor boy, overcome by what he
+had drunk, had fallen on the floor and was in a tipsy sleep.
+
+Scantlebray went to him.
+
+"Come along with me," he said. "Come, there is no time to be lost.
+Come, you fool!"
+
+He shook him, but Jamie would not be roused, he kicked and struck out
+with his fists.
+
+"You won't come? I'll make you."
+
+Then Scantlebray caught the boy by the shoulders to drag him to the
+door. The child began to struggle and resist.
+
+"Oh! I'm not concerned for you, fool," said Scantlebray. "If you like
+to stay and take your chance--my brother will be here to carry you off
+presently. Will you come?"
+
+Scantlebray caught the boy by the feet and tried to drag him, but
+Jamie clung to the table-legs.
+
+Scantlebray uttered an oath--"Stay, you fool, and be smothered! The
+world will get on very well without you."
+
+And he strode forth from the cottage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+SURRENDER.
+
+
+Scantlebray was mistaken. Coppinger had not crossed the estuary of the
+Camel. He was at Pentyre Glaze awaiting the time when the tide suited
+for landing the cargo of the Black Prince. In the kitchen were a
+number of men having their supper and drinking, waiting also for the
+proper moment when to issue forth.
+
+At the turn of the tide the Black Prince would approach in the
+gathering darkness and would come as near in as she dare venture. The
+wind had fallen, but the sea was running, and with the tide setting in
+she would approach the cove.
+
+Judith hastened toward the Glaze. Darkness had set in, but in the
+north were auroral lights, first a great, white halo, then rays that
+shot up to the zenith, and then a mackerel sky of rosy light. The
+growl and mutter of the sea filled the air with threat like an angry
+multitude surging on with blood and destruction in their hearts.
+
+The flicker overhead gave Judith light for her cause; the snow had
+melted except in ditches and under hedges, and there it glared red or
+white in response to the changing, luminous tinges of the heavens.
+When she reached the house she at once entered the hall; there
+Coppinger was awaiting her. He knew she would come to him when her
+mind was made up on the alternatives he had offered her, and he
+believed he knew pretty surely which she would choose. It was because
+he expected her that he had not suffered the men collected for the
+work of the night to invade the hall.
+
+"You are here," he said. He was seated by the fire; he looked up, but
+did not rise. "Almost too late."
+
+"Almost, maybe, but not altogether," answered Judith. "And yet it
+seems unnecessary, as you have already acted without awaiting my
+decision."
+
+"What makes you say that?"
+
+"I have been shown your letter."
+
+"Oh! Obadiah Scantlebray is premature."
+
+"He is not at Othello Cottage yet. His brother came beforehand to
+prepare me."
+
+"How considerate of your feelings," sneered Captain Cruel. "I would
+not have expected that of Scantlebray."
+
+"You have not awaited my decision," said Judith.
+
+"That is true," answered Coppinger, carelessly. "I knew you would
+shrink from the exposure, the disgrace of publication of what has
+occurred here. I knew you so well that I could reckon beforehand on
+what you would elect."
+
+"But, why to Scantlebray? Are there not other asylums?"
+
+"Yes: so long as that boy is placed where he can do no mischief, I
+care not."
+
+"Then, if that be so, I have another proposal to make."
+
+"What is that?" Coppinger stood up.
+
+"If you have any regard for my feelings, any care for my happiness,
+you will grant my request."
+
+"Let me hear it."
+
+"Mr. Menaida is going to Portugal."
+
+"What!"--in a tone of concentrated rage--"Oliver?"
+
+"Oliver and his father. But the proposal concerns the father."
+
+"Go on." Coppinger strode once across the room, then back again. "Go
+on," he said, savagely.
+
+"Old Mr. Menaida offers to take Jamie with him. He intends to settle
+at Oporto, near his son, who has been appointed to a good situation
+there. He will gladly undertake the charge of Jamie. Let Jamie go with
+them. There he can do no harm."
+
+"What, go--without you! Did they not want you to go, also?"
+
+Judith hesitated and flushed. There was a single tallow candle on the
+table. Coppinger took it up, snuffed it, and held the flame to her
+face to study its expression. "I thought so," he said, and put down
+the light again.
+
+"Jamie is useful to Mr. Menaida," pleaded Judith, in some confusion,
+and with a voice of tremulous apology.
+
+"He stuffs birds so beautifully, and Uncle Zachie--I mean Mr.
+Menaida--has set his heart on making a collection of the Spanish and
+Portuguese birds."
+
+"Oh, yes; he understands the properties of arsenic," said Coppinger,
+with a scoff.
+
+Judith's eyes fell. Captain Cruel's tone was not reassuring.
+
+"You say that you care not where Jamie be, so long as he is where he
+cannot hurt you," said Judith.
+
+"I did not say that," answered Coppinger. "I said that he must be
+placed where he can injure no one."
+
+"He can injure no one if he is with Mr. Menaida, who will well watch
+him, and keep him employed."
+
+Coppinger laughed bitterly. "And you? Will you be satisfied to have
+the idolized brother with the deep seas rolling between you?"
+
+"I must endure it. It is the least of evils."
+
+"But you would be pining to have wings and fly over the sea to him."
+
+"If I have not wings I cannot go."
+
+"Now hearken," said Coppinger. He clinched his fist and laid it on the
+table. "I know very well what this means. Oliver Menaida is at the
+bottom of this. It is not the fool Jamie who is wanted in Portugal,
+but the clever Judith. They have offered to take the boy, that through
+him they may attract you, unless," his voice thrilled, "they have
+already dared to propose that you should go with them."
+
+Judith was silent.
+
+Coppinger clinched his second hand and laid that also on the table. "I
+swear to heaven," said he, "that if I and that Oliver Menaida meet
+again, it is for the last time for one or other of us. We have met
+twice already. It is an understood thing between us, when we meet
+again, one wets his boots in the other's blood. Do you hear? The world
+will not hold us two any longer. Portugal may be far off, but it is
+too near Cornwall for me."
+
+Judith made no answer. She looked fixedly into the gloomy eyes of
+Coppinger, and said--
+
+"You have strange thoughts. Suppose--if you will--that the invitation
+included me, I could not have accepted it."
+
+"Why not! You refuse to regard yourself as married, and if unmarried,
+you are free--and if free, ready to elope with----" he would not utter
+the name in his quivering fury.
+
+"I pray you," said Judith, offended, "do not insult me."
+
+"I--insult you? It is a daily insult to me to be treated as I have
+been. It is driving me mad."
+
+"But, do you not see," urged Judith, "you have offered me two
+alternatives and I ask for a third, yours are jail or an asylum, mine
+is exile. Both yours are to me intolerable. Conceive of my state were
+Jamie either in jail or with Mr. Scantlebray. In jail--and I should be
+thinking of him all day and all night in his prison garb, tramping the
+tread-mill, beaten, driven on, associated with the vilest of men, an
+indelible stain put, not on him only, but on the name of our dear,
+dear father. Do you think I could bear that? or take the other
+alternative? I know the Scantlebrays. I should have the thoughts of
+Jamie distressed, frightened, solitary, ill-treated, ever before me. I
+had it for a few hours once and it drove me frantic. It would make me
+mad in a week. I know that I could not endure it. Either alternative
+would madden or kill me. And I offer another--if he were in exile, I
+could at least think of him as happy among the orange groves, in the
+vineyards, among kind friends, happy, innocent--at worst, forgetting
+me. _That_ I could bear. But the other--no, not for a week--they would
+be torture insufferable." She spoke full of feverish vehemence, with
+her hands outspread before her.
+
+"And this smiling vision of Jamie happy in Portugal would draw your
+heart from me."
+
+"You never had my heart," said Judith.
+
+Coppinger clinched his teeth. "I will hear no more of this," said he.
+
+Then Judith threw herself on her knees, and caught him and held him,
+lifting her entreating face toward his.
+
+"I have undergone it--for some hours. I know it will madden or kill
+me. I cannot--I cannot--I cannot," she could scarce breathe, she spoke
+in gasps.
+
+"You cannot what?" he asked, sullenly.
+
+"I cannot live on the terms you offer. You take from me even the very
+wish to live. Take away the arsenic from me--lest in madness I give
+it to myself. Take me far inland from these cliffs--lest in my madness
+I throw myself over--I could not bear it. Will nothing move you?"
+
+"Nothing." He stood before her, his feet apart, his arms folded, his
+chin on his breast, looking into her uplifted, imploring face.
+"Yes--one thing. One thing only." He paused, raking her face with his
+eyes. "Yes--one thing. Be mine wholly--unconditionally. Then I will
+consent. Be mine; add your name where it is wanting. Resume your
+ring--and Jamie shall go with the Menaidas. Now, choose."
+
+He drew back. Judith remained kneeling, upright, on the floor with
+arms extended--she had heard and at first hardly comprehended him.
+Then she staggered to her feet.
+
+"Well," said Coppinger, "what answer do you make?" Still she could not
+speak. She went to the table with uncertain steps. There was a wooden
+form by it. She seated herself on this, placed her arms on the board,
+joining her hands, and laid her head, face downward, between them on
+the table.
+
+Coppinger remained where he was, watching and waiting. He knew what
+her action implied--that she was to be left alone with her thoughts,
+to form her resolve undisturbed. He remained, accordingly, motionless,
+but with his eyes fixed on the golden hair that flickered in the dim
+light of the one candle. The wick had a great fungus in it--so large
+and glaring that in another moment it must fall, and fall on Judith's
+hand. Coppinger saw this and he thrust forth his arm to snuff the
+candle with his fingers, but his hand shook, and the light was
+extinguished. It mattered not. There were glowing coals on the hearth,
+and through the window flared and throbbed the auroral lights.
+
+A step sounded outside. Then a hand was on the door. Coppinger at once
+strode across the hall, and arrested the intruder from entering.
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"Hender Pendarvis"--the clerk of St. Enodoc. "I have some'ut
+partickler I must say."
+
+Coppinger looked at Judith; she lay motionless, her head between her
+arms on the board. He partly opened the door and stepped forth into
+the porch.
+
+When he had heard what the clerk of St. Enodoc had to say, he
+answered with an order, "Round to the kitchen--bid the men arm and go
+by the beach."
+
+He returned into the hall, went to the fireplace and took down a pair
+of pistols, tried them that they were charged, and thrust them into
+his belt.
+
+Next he went up to Judith, and laid his hand on her shoulder.
+
+"Time presses," he said; "I have to be off. Your answer." She looked
+up. The board was studded with drops of water. She had not wept, these
+stains were not her tears, they were the sweat of anguish off her brow
+that had run over the board.
+
+"Well, Judith, our answer."
+
+"I accept."
+
+"Unreservedly?"
+
+"Unreservedly."
+
+"Stay," said he. He spoke low, indistinctly articulated sentences.
+"Let there be no holding back between us. You shall know all. You have
+wondered concerning the death of Wyvill--I know you have asked
+questions about it. I killed him."
+
+He paused.
+
+"You heard of the wreckers on that vessel cast on Doom Bar. I was
+their leader."
+
+Again he paused.
+
+"You thought I had sent Jamie out with a light to mislead the vessel.
+You thought right. I did have her drawn to her destruction, and by
+your brother."
+
+He paused again. He saw Judith's hand twitch: that was the only sign
+of emotion in her.
+
+"And Lady Knighton's jewels. I took them off her--it was I who tore
+her ear."
+
+Again a stillness. The sky outside shone in at the window, a lurid
+red. From the kitchen could be heard the voice of a man singing.
+
+"Now you know all," said Coppinger. "I would not have you take me
+finally, fully, unreservedly without knowing the truth. Give me your
+resolve."
+
+She slightly lifted her hands; she looked steadily into his face with
+a stony expression in hers.
+
+"What is it!"
+
+"I cannot help myself--unreservedly yours."
+
+Then he caught her to him, pressed her to his heart and kissed her
+wet face--wet as though she had plunged it into the sea.
+
+"To-morrow," said he, "to-morrow shall be our true wedding."
+
+And he dashed out of the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+TO JUDITH.
+
+
+In the smugglers' cave were Oliver Menaida and the party of Preventive
+men, not under his charge, but under that of Wyvill. This man, though
+zealous in the execution of his duty, and not averse, should the
+opportunity offer, of paying off a debt in full with a bullet, instead
+of committing his adversary to the more lenient hands of the law,
+shared in that failing, if it were a failing, of being unable to do
+anything without being primed with spirits, a failing that was common
+at that period, to coast-guards and smugglers alike. The latter had to
+be primed in order to run a cargo, and the former must be in like
+condition to catch them at it. It was thought, not unjustly, that the
+magistrates before whom, if caught, the smugglers were brought, needed
+priming in order to ripen their intellects for pronouncing judgment.
+But it was not often that a capture was effected. When it was, priming
+was allowed for the due solemnization of the fact by the captors;
+failure always entitled them to priming in order to sustain their
+disappointment with fortitude. Wyvill had lost a brother in the cause,
+and his feelings often overcame him when he considered his loss, and
+their poignancy had to be slaked with the usual priming. It served, as
+its advocates alleged, as a great stimulant to courage; but it served
+also, as its deprecators asserted, as a solvent to discipline.
+
+Now that the party were in possession of the den of their adversaries,
+such a success needed, in their eyes, commemoration. They were likely,
+speedily, to have a tussle with the smugglers, and to prepare
+themselves for that required the priming of their nerves and sinews.
+They had had a sharp struggle with the sea in rounding Pentyre Point,
+and their unstrung muscles and joints demanded screwing up again by
+the same means.
+
+The Black Prince had been discerned through the falling darkness
+drawing shoreward with the rising tide; but it was certain that for
+another hour or two the men would have to wait before she dropped
+anchor, and those ashore came down to the unloading.
+
+A lantern was lighted, and the cave was explored. Certainly
+Coppinger's men from the land would arrive before the boats from the
+Black Prince, and it was determined to at once arrest them, and then
+await the contingent in the boats, and fall on them as they landed.
+The party was small, it consisted of but seven men, and it was
+advisable to deal with the smugglers piecemeal.
+
+The men, having leisure, brought out their food, and tapped the keg
+they had procured at the Rock. It was satisfactory to them that the
+Black Prince was apparently bent on discharging the cargo that night
+and in that place, thus they would not have to wait in the cave
+twenty-four hours, and not, after all, be disappointed.
+
+"All your pistols charged?" asked Wyvill.
+
+"Aye, aye, sir."
+
+"Then take your suppers while you may. We shall have hot work
+presently. Should a step be heard below, throw a bit o' sailcloth over
+the lantern, Samson."
+
+Oliver was neither hungry nor thirsty. He had both eaten and drunk
+sufficient when at the station. He therefore left the men to make
+their collation, prime their spirits, pluck up their courage, screw up
+their nerves, polish their wits, all with the same instrument, and
+descended the slope of shingle, stooped under the brow of rock that
+divided the lower from the upper cave, and made his way to the
+entrance, and thence out over the sands of the cove. He knew that the
+shore could be reached only by the donkey-path, or by the dangerous
+track down the chimney--a track he had not discovered till he had made
+a third exploration of the cave. Down this tortuous and perilous
+descent he was convinced the smugglers would not come. It was, he saw,
+but rarely used, and designed as a way of escape only on an emergency.
+A too-frequent employment of this path would have led to a treading of
+the turf on the cliff above, and to a marking of the line of descent,
+that would have attracted the attention of the curious, and revealed
+to the explorer the place of retreat.
+
+Oliver, therefore, went forward toward the point where the donkey-path
+reached the sands, deeming it advisable that a watch should be kept
+on this point, so that his party might be forewarned in time of the
+approach of the smugglers.
+
+There was much light in the sky, a fantastic, mysterious glow, as
+though some great conflagration were taking place and the clouds over
+head reflected its flicker.
+
+There passed throbs of shadow from side to side, and as Oliver looked
+he could almost believe that the light he saw proceeded from a great
+bonfire, such as was kindled on the Cornish Moors on Midsummer's Eve,
+and that the shadows were produced by men and women dancing round the
+flames and momentarily intercepting the light.
+
+Then ensued a change. The rose hue vanished suddenly, and in its place
+shot up three broad ribbons of silver light; and so bright and clear
+was the light that the edge of the cliff against it was cut as sharp
+as a black silhouette on white paper, and he could see every bush of
+gorse there, and a sheep--a solitary sheep.
+
+Suddenly he was startled by seeing a man before him, coming over the
+sand.
+
+"Who goes there?"
+
+"What--Oliver! I have found you!" the answer was in his father's
+voice. "Oh, well, I got fidgeted, and I thought I would come and see
+if you had arrived."
+
+"For heaven's sake, you have told no one of our plans?"
+
+"I--bless you, boy--not I. You know you told me yourself, before going
+to the station, what you intended, and I was troubled and anxious, and
+I came to see how things were turning out. The Black Prince is coming
+in; she will anchor shortly. She can't come beyond the point yonder. I
+was sure you would be here. How many have you brought with you?"
+
+"But six."
+
+"Too few. However, now I am with you, that makes eight."
+
+"I wish you had not come, father."
+
+"My boy, I did not come only on your account. I have my poor little Ju
+so near my heart that I long to put out if only a finger to liberate
+her from that ruffian, whom by the way I have challenged."
+
+"Yes--but I have stepped in as your substitute. I shall, I trust, try
+conclusions with Coppinger to-night. Come with me to the cave I told
+you of. We will send a man to keep guard at the foot of the donkey
+path."
+
+Oliver led the way; the sands reflected the illumination of the sky,
+and the foam that swept up the beach had a rosy tinge. The waves
+hissed as they rushed up the shore, as though impatient at men
+speaking and not listening to the voice of the ocean, that should
+subdue all human tongues, and command mute attention. And yet that
+roar is inarticulate, it is like the foaming fury of the dumb, that
+strives with noise and gesticulation to explain the thoughts that are
+working within.
+
+In the cave it was dark, and Oliver lighted a piece of touchwood as a
+means of observing the shelving ground, and taking his direction, till
+he passed under the brow of rock and entered the upper cavern.
+
+After a short scramble, the dim yellow glow of light from this inner
+recess was visible, when Oliver extinguished his touchwood and pushed
+on, guided by this light.
+
+On entering the upper cave he was surprised to find the guards lying
+about asleep, and snoring. He went at once to Wyvill, seized him by
+the arm and shook him, but none of his efforts could rouse him. He lay
+as a log, or as one stunned.
+
+"Father! help me with the others," said Oliver in great concern.
+
+Mr. Menaida went from one to the other, spoke to each, shook him, held
+the lantern to his eyes; he raised their heads; when he let go his
+hold, they fell back.
+
+"What is the meaning of this?" asked Oliver.
+
+"Humph!" said old Menaida, "I'll tell you what this means. There is a
+rogue among them, and their drink has been drugged with deadly
+night-shade. You might be sure of this--that among six coast-guards
+one would be in the pay of Coppinger. Which is it? Whoever it is, he
+is pretending to be as dead drunk and stupefied as the others, and
+which is the man, Noll?"
+
+"I cannot tell. This keg of brandy was got at the Rock Inn."
+
+"It was got there and there drugged, but by one of this company. Who
+is it?"
+
+"Yes," said Oliver, waxing wrathful, "and what is more, notice was
+sent to Coppinger to be on his guard. I saw the sexton going in the
+direction of Pentyre."
+
+"That man is a rascal."
+
+"And now we shall not encounter Coppinger. He will be warned and not
+come."
+
+"Trust him to come. He has heard of this. He will come and murder them
+all as he did Wyvill."
+
+Oliver felt as though a frost had fallen on him.
+
+"Hah!" said old Menaida. "Never trust anyone in this neighborhood; you
+cannot tell who is not in the pay or under the control of Coppinger,
+from the magistrate on the bench to the huckster who goes round the
+country. Among these six men, one is a spy and a traitor. Which it is
+we cannot tell. There is nothing else to be done but to bind them all,
+hand and foot. There is plenty of cord here."
+
+"Plenty. But surely not Wyvill."
+
+"Wyvill and all. How can you say that he is not the man who has done
+it? Many a fellow has carried his brother in his pocket. What if he
+has been bought?"
+
+Old Menaida was right. He had not lived so many years in the midst of
+smugglers without having learned something of their ways. His advice
+must be taken, for the danger was imminent. If, as he supposed, full
+information had been sent to Captain Cruel, then he and his men would
+be upon them shortly.
+
+Oliver hastily brought together all the cord of a suitable thickness
+he could find, and the old father raised and held each Preventive man,
+while Oliver firmly bound him hand and foot. As he did not know which
+was shamming sleep, he must bind all. Of the six, five were wholly
+unconscious what was being done to them, and the sixth thought it
+advisable to pretend to be as the rest, for he was quite aware that
+neither Oliver nor his father would scruple to silence him effectually
+did he show signs of animation.
+
+When all were made fast, old Mr. Menaida said:
+
+"Now, Noll, my boy, are you armed?"
+
+"No, father. When I went from home I expected to return. I did not
+know I should want weapons. But these fellows have their pistols and
+cutlasses."
+
+"Try the pistols. There, take that of the man Wyvill. Are you sure
+they are loaded?"
+
+"I know they are."
+
+"Well, try."
+
+Oliver took Wyvill's pistol, and put in the ramrod.
+
+"Oh yes, it is loaded."
+
+"Make sure. Draw the loading. You don't know what it is to have to do
+with Coppinger."
+
+Oliver drew the charge, and then, as is usual, when the powder has
+been removed, blew down the barrel. Then he observed that there was a
+choke somewhere. He took the pistol to the lantern, opened the side of
+the lantern and examined it. The touch-hole was plugged with wax.
+
+"Humph!" said Mr. Menaida. "The man who drugged the liquor waxed the
+touch-holes of the pistols. Try the rest."
+
+Oliver did not now trouble himself to draw the charges; he cocked each
+man's pistol and drew the trigger. Not one would discharge. All had
+been treated in like manner.
+
+Oliver thought for a moment what was to be done. He dared not leave
+the sleeping men unprotected, and he and his father alone were
+insufficient to defend them.
+
+"Father," said he, "there is but one thing that can be done now: you
+must go at once, fly to the nearest farmhouses and collect men, and,
+if possible, hold the donkey path before Coppinger and his men arrive.
+If you are too late, pursue them. I will choke the narrow entrance,
+and will light a fire. Perhaps they may be afraid when they see a
+blaze here, and may hold off. Anyhow, I can defend this place for a
+while. But I don't expect that they will attack it."
+
+Mr. Menaida at once saw that his son's judgment was right, and he
+hurried out of the cave, Oliver holding the light to assist him to
+descend, and then he made his way over the sands to the path, and up
+that to the downs.
+
+No sooner was he gone than Oliver collected what wood and straw were
+there, sailcloth, oilcloth, everything that was combustible, and piled
+them up into a heap, then applied the candle to them, and produced a
+flame. The wood was damp and did not burn freely, but he was able to
+awake a good fire that filled the cavern with light. He trusted that
+when the smugglers saw that their den was in the possession of the
+enemy they would not risk the attempt to enter and recover it. They
+might not, they probably did not, know to what condition the holders
+of the cave were reduced.
+
+The light of the fire roused countless bats that had made the roof of
+the cave their resting-place, and they flew wildly to and fro with
+whirr of wings and shrill screams.
+
+Oliver set to work with all haste to heap stones so as to choke the
+entrance from the lower cave, by which he anticipated that the
+smugglers would enter, should they resolve on so desperate a course.
+But owing to the rapid inclination, the pebbles yielded, and what he
+piled up rolled down. He then, with great effort, got the boat thrust
+down to the opening, and by main force drew it partly across. It was
+not possible for him completely to block the entrance, but by planting
+the boat athwart it, he could prevent several men from entering at
+once, and whoever did enter must scramble over the bulwarks of the
+boat.
+
+All this took some time, and he was thus engaged, when his attention
+was suddenly arrested by the click of a pistol brought to the cock. He
+looked hastily about him, and saw Coppinger, who, unobserved, had
+descended by the chimney, and now by the light of the fire was taking
+deliberate aim at him. Oliver drew back behind a rock.
+
+"You coward!" shouted Captain Cruel. "Come out and be shot."
+
+"I am no coward," answered Oliver. "Let us meet with equal arms. I
+have a cutlass." He had taken one from the side of a sleep-drunk
+coast-guard.
+
+"I prefer to shoot you down as a dog," said Coppinger.
+
+Then holding his pistol levelled in the direction of Oliver, he
+approached the sleeping men. Oliver saw at once his object: he would
+liberate the confederate. He stepped out from behind the rock, and
+immediately the pistol was discharged. A bat fell at the feet of
+Oliver. Had not that bat at the moment whizzed past his head and
+received the ball in its soft and yielding body, the young man would
+have fallen shot through his head.
+
+Coppinger uttered a curse, and put his hand to his belt and drew forth
+his second pistol. But Oliver sprang forward, and with a sweep of his
+cutlass caught him on the wrist with the blade as he was about to
+touch the trigger. The pistol fell from his hand, and a rush of blood
+overflowed the back of the hand.
+
+Coppinger remained for one minute motionless. So did Oliver, who did
+not again raise his cutlass.
+
+But at that moment a harsh voice was heard crying, "There he is, my
+men, at him; beat his brains out. A guinea for the first man who
+knocks him over," and from the further side of the boat, illumined by
+the glare from the fire, were seen the faces of Mr. Scantlebray, his
+brother, and several men, who began to scramble over the obstruction.
+
+Then, and then only in his life, did Coppinger's heart fail him. His
+right hand was powerless; the sharp blade had severed the tendons, and
+blood was flowing from his wrist in streams. One pistol was
+discharged, the other had fallen. In a minute he would be in the hands
+of his deadly enemies.
+
+He turned and fled. The light from the fire, the illumined smoke, rose
+through the chimney, and by that he could run up the familiar track,
+reach the platform in the face of the cliff, thence make his way by
+the path up which he had formerly borne Judith. He did not hesitate,
+he fled, and Oliver, also without hesitation, pursued him. As he went
+up the narrow track, his feet trod in and were stained with the blood
+that had fallen from Coppinger's wounded arm, but he did not notice
+it--he was unaware of it till the morrow.
+
+Coppinger reached the summit of the cliffs. His feet were on the down.
+He ran at once in the direction of Othello Cottage. His only chance of
+safety lay there. There he could hide in the attic, and Judith would
+never betray him. In his desperate condition, wounded, his blood
+flowing from him in streams, hunted by his foes, that one thought was
+in him--Judith--he must go to Judith. She would never betray him, she
+would be hacked to death rather than give him up. To Judith as his
+last refuge!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+IN THE SMOKE.
+
+
+Judith left Pentyre Glaze when she had somewhat recovered herself
+after the interview with Coppinger and her surrender. She had fought a
+brave battle, but had been defeated and must lay down her arms.
+Resistance was no longer possible if Jamie was to be saved from a
+miserable fate. Now by the sacrifice of herself she had assured to,
+him a future of calm and innocent happiness. She knew that with Uncle
+Zachie and Oliver he would be cared for, kindly treated, and employed.
+Uncle Zachie himself was not to be trusted; whatever he might promise,
+his good nature was greater than his judgment. But she had confidence
+in Oliver, who would prove a check on the over-indulgence which his
+father would allow. But Jamie would forget her. His light and
+unretentive mind was not one to harbor deep feeling. He would forget
+her when on board ship in his pleasure at running about the vessel
+chattering with the sailors, and would only think of her if he wanted
+aught or was ill. Rapidly the recollection of her, love for her, would
+die out of his mind and heart; and as it died out of his, her thought
+and love for him would deepen and become more fixed, for she would
+have no one, nothing in the world to think of and love save her
+twin-brother.
+
+She walked on in the dark winter night, lighted only by the auroral
+glow overhead, and was conscious of a smell of tobacco-smoke that so
+persistently seemed to follow her that she was forced to notice it.
+She became uneasy, thinking that someone was walking behind the hedge
+with a pipe, watching her, perhaps waiting to spring out upon her when
+distant from the house, where her cries for help might not be heard.
+
+She stood still. The smell was strong. She climbed the hedge on one
+side and looked over; as far as she could discern in the red glimmer
+from the flushed sky there was no one there. She listened, she could
+hear no step. She walked hastily on to a gate in the hedge on the
+opposite side and went through that. The smell of burning tobacco was
+as strong there. Judith turned in the lane and walked back in the
+direction of the house. The smell pursued her. It was strange. Could
+she carry the odor in her clothes? She turned again and resumed her
+walk toward Othello Cottage. Now she was distinctly aware that the
+scent came to her on the wind. Her perplexity on this subject served
+as a diversion of her mind from her own troubles.
+
+She emerged upon the downs, and made her way across them toward the
+cottage that lay in a dip, not to be observed except by one close to
+it. The wind when it brushed up from the sea was odorless.
+
+Presently she came in sight of Othello Cottage, and in spite of the
+darkness could see that a strange, dense, white fog surrounded it,
+especially the roof, which seemed to be wearing a white wig. In a
+moment she understood what this signified. Othello Cottage was on
+fire, and the stores of tobacco in the attic were burning. Judith ran.
+Her own troubles were forgotten in her alarm for Jamie. No fire as yet
+had broken through the roof.
+
+She reached the door, which was open. Mr. Scantlebray in leaving had
+not shut the door, so as to allow the boy to crawl out should he
+recover sufficient intelligence to see that he was in danger.
+
+It is probable that Scantlebray, senior, would have made further
+efforts to save Jamie, but that he believed he would meet with his
+brother, and two or three men he was bringing with him, near the
+house, and then it would be easy unitedly to drag the boy forth. He
+did, indeed, meet with Obadiah, but also at the same time with Uncle
+Zachie Menaida and a small party of farm-laborers, and when he heard
+that Mr. Menaida desired help to secure Coppinger and the smugglers,
+he thought no more of the boy and joined heartily in the attempt to
+rescue the Preventive men and take Coppinger.
+
+Through the open door dashed Judith, crying out to Jamie whom she
+could not see. There was a dense, white cloud in the room, let down
+from above, and curling out at the top of the door, whence it issued
+as steam from a boiler. It was impossible to breathe in this fog of
+tobacco-smoke, and Judith knew that if she allowed it to surround her
+she would be stupefied. She therefore stooped and entered, calling
+Jamie. Although the thick mattress of white smoke had not as yet
+descended to the floor, and had left comparatively clear air beneath
+it--the in-draught from the door--yet the odor of the burning tobacco
+impregnated the atmosphere. Here and there curls of smoke descended,
+dropped capriciously from the bed of vapor above, and wantonly played
+about.
+
+Judith saw her brother lying at full length near the fire. Scantlebray
+had drawn him partly to the door, but he had rolled back to his former
+position near the hearth, perhaps from feeling the cold wind that blew
+in on him.
+
+There was no time to be lost. Judith knew that flame must burst forth
+directly--directly the burning tobacco had charred through the rafters
+and flooring of the attic and allowed the fresh air from below to rush
+in and, acting as a bellows, blow the whole mass of glowing tobacco
+into flame. It was obvious that the fire had originated above in the
+attic. There was nothing burning in the room, and the smoke drove
+downward in strips through the joints of the boards overhead.
+
+"Jamie, come, come with me!" She shook the boy, she knelt by him and
+raised him on her knee. He was stupefied with cognac, and with the
+fumes of the burning tobacco he had inhaled.
+
+She must drag him forth. He was no longer half-conscious as he had
+been when Mr. Scantlebray made the same attempt; the power to resist
+was now gone from him.
+
+Judith was delicately made, and was not strong, but she put her arms
+under the shoulders of Jamie and herself on her knees and dragged him
+along the floor. He was as heavy as a corpse. She drew him a little
+way and desisted, overcome, panting, giddy, faint. But time must not
+be lost. Every moment was precious. Judith knew that overhead in the
+loft was something that would not smoulder and glow, but burst into
+furious flame--spirits. Not, indeed, many kegs, but there were some.
+When this became ignited their escape would be impossible. She drew
+Jamie further up; she was behind him. She thrust him forward as she
+moved on upon her knees, driving him a step further at every advance.
+It was slow and laborious work. She could not maintain this effort
+for long and fell forward on her hands, and he fell also at the same
+time on the floor.
+
+Then she heard a sound, a roar, an angry growl. The shock of the fall,
+and striking his head against the slate pavement, roused Jamie
+momentarily and he also heard the noise.
+
+"Ju! the roar of the sea!"
+
+"A sea of fire, Jamie! Oh, do push to the door."
+
+He raised himself on his hands, looked vacantly round, and fell again
+into stupid unconsciousness. Now still on her knees, but with a brain
+becoming bewildered with the fumes, she crept to his head, placed
+herself between him and the door, and holding his shoulders, dragged
+him toward her, she moving backward.
+
+Even thus she could make but little way with him; his boot-tops caught
+in the edge of a slate slab ill fitted in the floor and held him, so
+that she could not pull him to her with the additional resistance thus
+caused. Then an idea struck her. Staggering to her feet, holding her
+breath, she plunged in the direction of the window, beat it open, and
+panted in the inrush of pure air. With this new current wafted in
+behind her she returned amid the smoke, and for a moment it dissipated
+the density of the cloud about her. The window had faced the wind, and
+the rush of air through it was more strong than that which entered by
+the door. And yet this expedient did not answer as she had expected,
+for the column of strong, cold air pouring in from a higher level
+threw the cloud into confusion, stirred it up as it were, and lessened
+the space of uninvaded atmosphere below the descending bed of vapor.
+
+Again she went to Jamie. The roar overhead had increased, some vent
+had been found, and the attic was in full flagrance. Now, drawing a
+long breath at the door, near the level of the ground, she returned to
+her brother and disengaged his foot from the slate, then dragged, then
+thrust, sometimes at his head, sometimes at his side; then again she
+had her arms round him, and swung herself forward to the right knee
+sideways; then brought up the other knee, and swung herself with the
+dead weight in her arms again to the right, and thus was able to work
+her way nearer to the door, and, as she got nearer to the door, the
+air was clearer, and she was able to breathe freer.
+
+At length she laid hold of the jamb with one hand, and with the other
+she caught the lappel of the boy's coat, and assisted by the support
+she had gained, was able to drag him over the doorstep.
+
+At that moment passed her rushed a man. She looked, saw and knew
+Coppinger. As he rushed passed, the blood squirting from his maimed
+right hand fell on the girl lying prostrate at the jamb to which she
+had clung.
+
+And now within a red light appeared, glowing through the mist as a
+fiery eye, not only so, but every now and then a fiery rain descended.
+The burning tobacco had consumed the boards and was falling through in
+red masses.
+
+Judith had but just brought her brother into safety, or comparative
+safety, and now another, Coppinger, had plunged into the burning
+cottage, rushed to almost certain death. She cried to him as well as
+she could with her short breath. She could not leave him within. Why
+had he run there? She saw on her dress the blood that had fallen from
+him. She went outside the hut and dragged Jamie forth and laid him on
+the grass. Then, without hesitation, inhaling all the pure air she
+could, she darted once more into the burning cottage. Her eyes were
+stung with the smoke, but she pushed on, and found Coppinger under the
+open window, fallen on the floor, his back and head against the wall,
+his arms at his side, and the blood streaming over the slate pavement
+from his right gashed wrist. Accident or instinct--it could not have
+been judgment--had carried him to the only spot in the room where pure
+air was to be found, and there it descended like a rushing waterfall,
+blowing about the prostrate man's wild long hair.
+
+"Judith!" said he, looking at her, and he raised his left hand.
+"Judith, this is the end."
+
+"Oh, Captain Coppinger, do come out. The house is burning. Quick, or
+it will be too late."
+
+"It is too late for me," he said. "I am wounded." He held up his
+half-severed hand. "I gave this to you and you rejected it."
+
+"Come--oh, do come--or you and I will be burnt." In the inrushing
+sweep of air both were clear of the smoke and could breathe.
+
+He shook his head. "I am followed. I will not be taken. I am no good
+now--without my right hand. I will not go to jail."
+
+She caught his arm, and tearing the kerchief from her neck, bound it
+round and round where the veins were severed.
+
+"It is in vain," he said. "I have lost most of my blood. Ju!"--he held
+her with his left hand--"Ju, if you live, swear to me, swear you will
+sign the register."
+
+She was looking into his face--it was ghastly, partly through loss of
+blood, partly because lighted by the glare of the burning tobacco that
+dropped from above. Then a sense of vast pity came surging over her
+along with the thought of how he had loved her. Into her burning eyes
+tears came.
+
+"Judith!" he said, "I made my confession to you--I told you my sins.
+Give me also my release. Say you forgive me."
+
+She had forgotten her peril, forgotten about the fire that was above
+and around, as she looked at his eyes, and, holding the maimed right
+arm, felt the hot blood welling through her kerchief and running over
+her hand.
+
+"I pray you, oh, I pray you, come outside. There is still time."
+
+Again he shook his head. "My time is up. I do not want to live. I have
+not your love. I could never win it, and if I went outside I should be
+captured and sent to prison. Will you give me my absolution?"
+
+"What do you mean?" And in her trembling concern for him--in the
+intensity of her pity, sorrow, care for him--she drew his wounded hand
+to her and pressed it against her heaving bosom.
+
+"What I mean is, can you forgive me?"
+
+"Indeed--indeed I do."
+
+"What--all I have done?"
+
+"All."
+
+She saw only a dying man before her, a man who might be saved if he
+would, but would not because her love was everything to him, and
+_that_ he never, never could gain. Would she make no concession to
+him? could she not draw a few steps nearer? As she looked into his
+face and held his bleeding arm to her bosom, pity overpowered
+her--pity, when she saw how strong had been this wild and wicked
+man's love. Now she truly realized its depth, its intensity, and its
+tenderness alternating with stormy blasts of passion, as he wavered
+between hope and fear, and the despair that was his when he knew he
+must lose her.
+
+Then she stooped, and, the tears streaming over her face, she kissed
+him on his brow, and then on his lips, and then drew back, still
+holding his maimed hand, with both of hers crossed over it, to her
+heaving bosom. Kneeling, she had her eyes on his, and his were on
+hers--steady, searching, but with a gentle light in them. And as she
+thus looked she became unconscious, and sank, still holding his hand,
+on the floor.
+
+At that instant, through the smoke and raining masses of burning
+tobacco, plunged Oliver Menaida. He saw Judith, bent, caught her in
+his arms, and rushed back through the door.
+
+A moment after and he was at the entrance again, to plunge through and
+rescue his wounded adversary; but the moment when this could be done
+was past. There was an explosion above, followed by a fall as of a
+sheet of blue light, a curtain of fire through the mist of white
+smoke. No living man could pass that. Oliver went round to the window,
+and strove to enter by that way; the man who had taken refuge there
+was still in the same position, but he had torn the kerchief of Judith
+from the bleeding arm, and he held it to his mouth, looking with fixed
+eyes into the falling red and blue fires and the swirling flocks of
+white smoke.
+
+There were iron bars at the window. Oliver tore at these to displace
+them.
+
+"Coppinger!" he shouted, "stand up--help me to break these bars!"
+
+But Coppinger would not move, or, possibly, the power was gone from
+him. The bars were firmly set. They had been placed in the windows by
+Coppinger's orders and under his own supervision, to secure Othello
+Cottage, his store-place, against invasion by the inquisitive.
+
+At length Oliver succeeded in wrenching one bar away, and now a gap
+was made through which he might reach Coppinger and draw him forth
+through the window. He was scrambling in when the Captain staggered to
+his feet.
+
+"Let me alone," said he. "You have won what I have lost. Let me
+alone. I am defeated."
+
+Then he stepped into the mass of smoke and falling liquid blue fire
+and dropping masses of red glowing tobacco. A moment more, and the
+whole of the attic floor, with all the burning contents of the garret,
+fell in.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+SQUAB PIE.
+
+
+Next morning, at an early hour, Judith, attended by Mr. Zachary
+Menaida, appeared at the rectory of St. Enodoc. She was deadly pale,
+but there was decision in her face. She asked to see Mr. Desiderius
+Mules in his study, and was shown into what had, in her father's days,
+been the pantry.
+
+Mr. Menaida had a puzzled look in his watery eyes. He had been up all
+night, and indeed it had been a night in which few in the neighborhood
+had slept, excepting Mr. Mules, who knew nothing of what had happened.
+The smugglers, alarmed by the fire at Othello Cottage, and by the
+party collected by Mr. Menaida to guard the descent to the beach, had
+not ventured to force their way to the cave. The Black Prince, finding
+that no signal was made from the ledge above the cave, suspected
+mischief, heaved anchor and bore away. The stupefied members of the
+Preventive service were conveyed to the nearest cottages, and there
+left to recover. As for Othello Cottage, it was a blazing and smoking
+mass of fire, and till late on the following day could not be
+searched. There was no fire-engine anywhere near; nor would a
+fire-engine have availed to save either the building or its contents.
+
+When Mr. Mules appeared, Judith said in a quiet but firm tone, "I have
+come to sign the register. Mr. Menaida is here. I do it willingly, and
+with no constraint."
+
+"Thank you. This is most considerate to my feelings. I wish all my
+flock would obey my advice as you are now doing," said the rector, and
+produced the book, which Judith signed with trembling hand.
+
+Mr. Desiderius was quite ignorant of the events of the night. He had
+no idea that at that time Captain Coppinger was dead.
+
+It was not till some days later that Judith understood why, at the
+last moment, with death before his eyes, Coppinger had urged on her
+this ratification of her marriage. It was not till his will was found,
+that she understood his meaning. He had left to her, as his wife,
+everything that he possessed. No one knew of any relatives that he
+had, for no one knew whence he came. No one ever appeared to put in a
+claim against the widow.
+
+On the second day the remains of the burnt cottage were cleared away,
+and then the body of Cruel Coppinger was found, fearfully charred, and
+disfigured past recognition. There were but two persons who knew that
+this blackened corpse belonged to the long dreaded captain, and these
+were Judith and Oliver. When the burnt body was cleared from the
+charred fragments of clothing that were about it one article was
+discovered uninjured. About his throat Coppinger had worn a silk
+handkerchief, and this as well as the collar of his coat had preserved
+his neck and the upper portion of his chest from injury such as had
+befallen the rest of his person. And when the burnt kerchief was
+removed, and the singed cloth of the coat-collar, there was discovered
+round the throat a narrow black band, and sewn into this band, one
+golden thread of hair, encircling the neck.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Are our readers acquainted with that local delicacy entitled, in
+Cornwall and Devon, Squab Pie? To enlighten the ignorant, it shall be
+described. First, however, we premise that of squab pies there are two
+sorts: Devonian squab and Cornish squab. The Cornish squab differs
+from the Devonian squab in one particular; that shall be specified
+presently.
+
+_How to Make a Squab Pie._--Take half a pound of veal, cut into nice
+square pieces, and put a layer of them at the bottom of a pie-dish.
+Sprinkle over these a portion of herbs, spices, seasoning, lemon-peel,
+and the yolks of eggs cut in slices; cut a quarter of a pound of
+boiled ham very thin, and put in a layer of this. Take half a pound of
+mutton cut into nice pieces, and put a layer of them on the top of the
+veal. Sprinkle as before with herbs and spices. Take half a pound of
+beef, cut into nice pieces, and put a layer of them on top of the
+mutton. Sprinkle as before with herbs and spices. Cut up half a dozen
+apples very fine, also half a dozen onions, mix, and proceed to ram
+the onions and apples into every perceivable crevice. Take half a
+dozen pilchards, remove the bones, chop up and strew the whole pie
+with pilchards. Then fill up with clotted cream, till the pie-dish
+will hold no more. (For Cornish squab add, treated in like manner, a
+cormorant.) Proceed to lay a puff paste on the edge of the dish. Then
+insert a tablespoon and stir the contents, till your arm aches. Cover
+with crust or ornament it with leaves, brush it over with the yolk of
+an egg, and bake in a well-heated oven for one or one and a half hour,
+or longer, should the pie be very large (two in the case of a Cornish
+squab, and the cormorant very tough).
+
+In one word, a squab pie is a scrap pie. So is the final chapter of a
+three-volume novel. It is made up, from the first word to the last, of
+scraps of all kinds, toothsome and the reverse.
+
+Now let the reader observe--he has been already supplied with scraps.
+He has learned the result of Mr. Menaida's collecting men to assist
+him against the smugglers. Also of his expedition along with Judith to
+the rectory of St. Enodoc. Also he has heard the provisions of Captain
+Coppinger's will; also that this will was not contested. He has also
+heard of the recovery of the Captain's body from the burnt cottage.
+
+Is not this a collection of scraps cut very small? But there are more,
+of a different character, with which this chapter will be made up,
+before the pie-crust closes over it with a flourishing "Finis" to
+ornament it.
+
+Mr. Scantlebray had lost his wife, who had been an ailing woman for
+some years, and being a widower, cast about his eyes for a second
+wife, after the way of widowers. There was not the excuse of a young
+family needing a prudent housewife to manage the children, for Mr.
+Scantlebray had only one daughter, who had been allotted by her father
+and by popular opinion to Captain Coppinger, but had failed to secure
+him. Mr. Scantlebray, though an active man, had not amassed much
+money, and if he could add to his comforts, provide himself with good
+eating and good drinking, by marrying a woman with money, he was not
+averse to so doing. Now, Mr. Scantlebray had lent a ready ear to the
+voice of rumor which made Miss Dionysia Trevisa the heiress who had
+come in for all the leavings of that rich old spinster, Miss Ceely, of
+St. Austell, and Mr. Scantlebray gave credit to this rumor, and acting
+on it, proposed to and was accepted by Miss Dionysia.
+
+Now when, after marriage, Mr. Scantlebray found out that the sweet
+creature he had taken to his side was worth under a quarter of the sum
+he had set down at the lowest figure, at which he could endure her,
+and when the late Miss Trevisa, now the second Mrs. Scantlebray,
+learned from her husband's lips that he had married her only for her
+money, and not for her good looks or for any good quality she was
+supposed to be endowed with, the reader, knowing something of the
+characters of these two persons, may conjecture, if he please, what
+sort of scenes ensued daily between them, and it may be safely
+asserted that the bitterest enemies of either could not have desired
+for each a more unenviable lot than was theirs.
+
+Very shortly after the death of Captain Coppinger, Judith and Jamie
+left Bristol in a vessel, with Uncle Zachie, bound for Lisbon. Oliver
+Menaida had gone to Oporto before, to make arrangements for his
+father. It was settled that Judith and her brother should live with
+the old man, and that the girl should keep house for him. Oliver would
+occupy his old quarters, that belonged to the firm in which he was a
+partner.
+
+It is a strange thing--but after the loss of Coppinger Judith's mind
+reverted much to him, she thought long and tenderly of his
+considerations for her, his patience with her, his forbearance, his
+gentleness toward her, and of his intense and enduring love. His
+violence she forgot, and she put down the crimes he had committed to
+evil association, or to an irregulated, undisciplined conscience,
+excusable in a measure in one who had not the advantages she had
+enjoyed, of growing up under the eye of a blameless, honorable, and
+right-minded father.
+
+In the Consistory Court of Canterbury is a book of the marriages
+performed at the Oporto factory, by the English chaplain resident
+there. It begins in the year 1788 and ends in 1807. The author has
+searched this volume in vain for a marriage between Oliver Menaida
+and Judith Coppinger. If such a marriage did take place, it must have
+been after 1807, but the book of register of marriages later than this
+date is not to be found in the Consistory Court.
+
+Were they married?
+
+On inquiry at St. Enodoc no information has been obtained, for neither
+Judith nor the Menaidas had any relatives there with whom they
+communicated. If Mrs. Scantlebray ever heard, she said nothing, or, at
+all events, nothing she said concerning them has been remembered.
+
+Were they ever married?
+
+That question the reader must decide as he likes.
+
+
+FINIS.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+A Table of Contents has been added by the transcriber for the
+convenience of the reader.
+
+Saint is abbreviated to both S. and St. in this book.
+
+The author refers to plants by the names of escallonica and
+eschalonia. It's likely that both are errors for escallonia, but they
+are preserved as printed.
+
+Instances of archaic spelling (e.g. taught meaning taut) are preserved
+as printed. Variant spelling (e.g. jewelry and jewellery) is preserved
+as printed except where there was a clear prevalence of one form over
+another, as follows:
+
+    Page 21--Wyvell amended to Wyvill--"... on one occasion a
+    preventive man named Ewan Wyvill, ..."
+
+    Page 21--Wyvell amended to Wyvill--"Wyvill had disappeared,
+    and the body was recovered ..."
+
+    Page 79--jassamine amended to jessamine--"... a-smelling to
+    the jessamine is the surveyor ..."
+
+    Page 191--stupified amended to stupefied--"... so stupefied
+    was he by his terrors, ..."
+
+Hyphenation usage has been made consistent.
+
+Minor punctuation errors have been repaired.
+
+The following printer errors have been fixed:
+
+    Page 31--contion amended to condition--"The chancel of the
+    church was in that condition ..."
+
+    Page 32--omitted 'a' added for sense--"... was to be
+    anticipated from a broken-hearted widow and helpless
+    children ..."
+
+    Page 34--repeated 'the' deleted--"... who occupied a
+    double cottage at the little hamlet of Polzeath."
+
+    Page 35--she amended to he--"... with a jerk of the rein and
+    a set of the brow he showed ..."
+
+    Page 56--Bluet amended to Blue--"... Boy Blue blew his horn,
+    ..."
+
+    Page 63--companian amended to companion--"... the friend and
+    companion of Judith."
+
+    Page 70--it amended to in--"... the voice summoned her to
+    come in, ..."
+
+    Page 104--repeated 'had' deleted--"... had seen him with his
+    carriers defile out of the lane ..."
+
+    Page 120--keenist amended to keenest--"A cry of intensest,
+    keenest anguish ..."
+
+    Page 126--repeated 'the' deleted--"That star on the black
+    sea--what did it mean?"
+
+    Page 162--aught amended to ought--"... but that he was told
+    it was there, he ought to see it, ..."
+
+    Page 163--hime amended to home--"... "may I get out now and
+    go home?""
+
+    Page 168--springs amended to sprigs--"... covered with sprigs
+    of nondescript pink and blue flowers."
+
+    Page 238--repeated 'and' deleted--"... and never once as I'm
+    a Christian ..."
+
+    Page 241--coldnesss amended to coldness--"... formed the
+    resolution to break down the coldness ..."
+
+    Page 247--or amended to of--"... to take this accumulation
+    of wreckage ..."
+
+    Page 248--officient amended to officiant--"... immediately
+    over the head of the officiant, ..."
+
+    Page 259--remorselesss amended to remorseless--"...
+    remorseless and regardless of others, ..."
+
+    Page 278--Judiah amended to Judith--""Nothing," answered
+    Judith, ..."
+
+    Page 285--Travisa amended to Trevisa--"... by a little
+    sentiment for Miss Judith Trevisa, ..."
+
+    Page 337--chose amended to choose--"... and if I choose to
+    live in it I can."
+
+    Page 351--superfluous 'where' deleted before 'there'--"Judith
+    walked where, near the edge of the cliffs, there was no snow,
+    ..."
+
+    Page 362--breakfeast amended to breakfast--"... in utter
+    guilelessness, prepared my breakfast for me, ..."
+
+    Page 397--kness amended to knees--"... and herself on her
+    knees and dragged him ..."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's In the Roar of the Sea, by Sabine Baring-Gould
+
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